


Grit and Grace

by KittyHowell



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Aziraphale is 21, Beezebub has they/them pronouns, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), CommunityService!Crowley, Criminal!Crowley, Crowley is 20, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Orphan Crowley, Other, PastorSon!Aziraphale, Rating for later chapters, Smut, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Young Adults, just a little angst though, more tags to be added probably, shitty summary but you get what you get okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-06-28 09:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19809790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyHowell/pseuds/KittyHowell
Summary: AU - Aziraphale was hoping to reinstate his father's church as a safe haven for lost souls and along the way meets Crowley. The judge was going to sentence the young man to prison unless Aziraphale spoke up, and spoke up he did. Shouldering more responsibility than he can handle alone, he hoped he could trust Crowley with the duties of the church and also with his heart.





	1. In the Beginning

The sun was the devil. 

Crowley was sure of this as he let out a groan, yanked his blanket over his head, and tried to roll over to face the wall. Of course he’d gotten the room with the east facing window. His legs were uncomfortably tucked up against his chest, as the twin sized bed he currently called his was just a tad too short for his long lean legs. 

Not a minute after the morning rays woke him, his alarm went off. Groaning in frustration, he almost threw the phone but knew if he broke it, he’d never be able to replace it. He missed the days of the digital alarm clocks. Plenty of those had gone out the window in a sleep haze rage in his younger years. 

Crowley hurried to turn it off before falling back on the uncomfortably old mattress. It was probably older than him but he couldn’t be sure. He crossed his arms under his head and stretched his legs until his feet reached the footboard uncomfortably. He stared up at the ceiling, hoping to will time to stop. Just for a moment. He’d be happy for just a moment.

When he couldn’t lay in bed any longer or risk being late and facing the wrath of Bee, he slithered out of bed and got dressed. Almost all his clothes looked the same but he took the time to look them over and pick what he wanted to wear. In the end he picked one of his many pairs of black skinny jeans, a grey shirt, and a black jacket. He slipped his feet into his snakeskin boots, second hand but well loved and cared for, and checked to make sure his sunglasses were straight before venturing out into the rest of the apartment. 

It was a small place. His room wasn’t even technically a bedroom but it was a place over his head and a bed he could take a nap in. In some cases, it was better than what he’s had in the past. He noticed immediately that Hastur and Ligur weren’t home. Hastur was probably already with Bee and if he knew Ligur, he probably wasn’t home yet from whatever girl’s bed he’d made his way into the night before. 

The place was disgusting because the others never cleaned. After a while, Crowley gave up trying. His room looked decent enough, but the common areas were overrun with trash, old food, beer cans, and sometimes even rats. He made himself a cup of coffee in a disposable cup and leaned against the counter while he drank it. There was no place to sit that was not overridden with trash. 

He left the door unlocked when he left. Ligur will have absolutely not taken his keys the night before and it’s not like anyone was going to try stealing their trash from them. He didn’t see anyone else in the apartment building. It was too early for most of their lot to be up and even then, they all usually kept to themselves. 

He shoved his hands in his pocket when he exited the building. Ligur was coming up the walk, dressed in last night’s clothes and smelling of alcohol. He was searching his pockets. 

“Door open,” he asked as they pass, having stopped looking for his keys. 

“Yeah, but better hurry mate,” he replied, checking his watch. Bee was going to be pissed if any of them were late again. 

“Fuck off,” Ligur said back but with no bite to it. They passed each other without another word. Crowley had a car but it was old and currently not working. It actually had never worked while he owned it but he hoped to have it going soon. It was more of a project for him than anything else. Something to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied during his waking hours. Still, he wished he could drive it. Instead he shoved headphones in his ears, blasted Queen as loud as he could and hoped the other Londoners around him would take in everything about him and realize he wanted to be left alone. 

Bee grew up in the same situation as he and the others but somehow managed to be on top of them. He wasn’t sure how they afford to live by themselves in an apartment better than theirs but he didn’t dare ask. They never met at their place. Bee always said it was because of her neighbors but Crowley knew it was simply because they didn’t want them around. 

They always met at random places around the city. This time, it was a small hole in the wall diner around a mile from their apartment that Crowley knew rather well. When he arrived, he’s barely on time, and Bee and Hestur were sitting across from each other in a booth in the back corner. 

“Hey guys,” he mumbled as he sat down next to Hestur. The man smells. Crowley is pretty certain the older man hadn’t showered in at least a month, if not longer. Still, it’s much better than sitting next to Bee. Ligur will give him hell later for it, but that’s something he’s willing to take. 

“You’re late,” Bee hissed with a roll of their eyes. 

Crowley checked his watch. He was right on time but shrugs his shoulders in a non caring apology anyway. 

“And where is Ligur?” 

“Right here,” the man appeared, almost out of nowhere. He must have taken Crowley’s advice and hurried. He’s showered, at least, but looks a little worse for wear. 

“Idiots, all of you. Sit down.” 

Ligur did with a glare pointed towards Crowley. The redhead pretended not to notice by turning his attention to Bee. The person sitting across from him is over a foot shorter than him and probably only weighed 95 pounds. Crowley was absolutely terrified of them, as he knew his two roommates were. 

“...and I expect perfection,” Bee said, their forceful voice a near whisper. “Are you listening to me, Crowley?” 

Crowley grunted his response but he truly was light years away. He didn’t want to be there. He felt claustrophobic in the booth and with his life but found over and over he had nowhere to go. This was all there would ever be for him. He felt the familiar ache in his chest, mixed with something he refused to admit was longing. He longed to get out of their neighborhood, to get away from his past, just to get away. He’d launch himself into space it it were an option.

“So when are we doing this, exactly,” Hastur asked, keeping his voice low. The waitress was right behind them, cleaning the table. She was wearing headphones and bobbing her head to the music. She seemed oblivious to them, thankfully, but one could never be too careful in their line of work. Hastur, Crowley knew, had his eye on this particular waitress. While they had never met for a meeting there, he knew his roommate frequented the place as often as he did. He also referred to the waitress by name which was unusual for Hestur. His roommate often said his name wrong, uncaring when Crowley corrected him so it was notable when he got a name correctly. He almost felt sorry for the guy because he truly had no idea what he was doing. He felt worse for the girl. She was the one who had to deal with his affection, or whatever it was he thought affection was. 

“As soon as you finish your coffee.” 

“Now,” Ligur asked a little loudly, then quieted down. “Bee we haven’t prepared. Why’s it gotta be today?” 

Their leader sighed heavily. “I have it on good authority that the money from the sale will move this afternoon. I do not like to be questioned so keep your comments to yourself from here on out. Got it?” 

The other two murmured in agreement but Crowley stayed silent. Bee didn’t seem to notice. Hastur finished his coffee and the four headed off towards the exit. Crowley slipped the waitress money he didn’t have to give away when he noticed Bee and Hastur ignoring their tabs. It was mostly to avoid a problem but Crowley also couldn’t let it go without doing something. The waitress was working for her money at least and they were...well, not. 

The place was only a couple of miles from where they were. Crowley walked two blocks down before getting picked up in the car by Bee, who got into the passenger seat to let the tall man drive. Hestur rode with Ligur about a mile before they dropped their car off. They walked together for a couple more blocks before Crowley picked them up. 

This was standard just in case anyone was paying any attention to them. It all seemed ridiculous to Crowley but he didn’t question the boss. He wasn’t even sure where they were going. He hadn’t been paying enough attention at the diner. Luckily, Bee directed him without a second thought. He paid close attention to the traffic and if there were any detours or problems he needed to be aware of. He stayed well within the means of the speed limit, used his blinker, and stopped for pedestrians. 

He parallel parked two shops down from an old antique store, making sure he had plenty of room to get out quickly. There wasn’t any other place to park close enough to the shop that left him a quicker escape without risking the others so he angled the car out of the space and kept the car running. 

Once he saw the old building, he knew exactly what Bee was after. Well, he always knew it was money but now he knew what from. Bee had talked several times before about an old religious relic that had made its way into the store about six months before. Depending on the buyer, Crowley knew the man who ran the shop could make up to a hundred thousand for the piece. Crowley also knew they had their eye on it but it was too dangerous to try and steal outright. Moving a piece like that on the downlow would be difficult and risky. Only certain buyers are interested in religious pieces and even fewer have the funds and are willing to use them illegally. It must have been sold. 

“Alright, Crowley,” Hastur said as he and the others slid the ridiculous matching angel masks on their face, “keep the car running. We’ll be right out.” 

They waited for a free moment to sneak in. Crowley knew they wouldn’t be too long. He picked his own angel mask up from the dash of Bee’s car and tossed it onto the seat next to him with a huff. He started to feel claustrophobic again and gripped the wheel until his knuckles turned white. 

A moment later he heard a struggle from inside the store. He looked out the window, straining himself to hear exactly what was going on. He thought about taking off and then the storefront door opened and Ligur came wobbling out. He looked to be in pain but Crowley could not see from what. A second later he fell. 

“Fuck!” 

…

Aziraphale had a long to-do list to accomplish over the next few days but he was overjoyed for the opportunity it would bring. St. Francis Church was much smaller and more modest than the other churches in the area and did not gather a large congregation as the others did. What it did attract was a large number of lost souls, homeless persons, and those looking to run away. His father Sandalphon, the pastor of the church, was ready to let the doors close permanently. He talked about transferring somewhere else he may be needed more or perhaps retiring if there was no where else to go. 

Aziraphale had managed to convince him to hold out. There were so many people in the area that needed St. Francis’. It didn’t matter if they were apart of the congregation or not. It didn’t matter even if they didn’t believe in God. What mattered was that they received the help they needed. Aziraphale believed all else God wanted humans to help one another. He did not understand how his father could believe he was not needed there when all Aziraphale could see were people in need. 

He’d managed to convince his father to reopen the doors of the church for Saturday night dinner to be served to the underprivileged and the homeless. He hoped to have the dinners a complete success by the colder months, so he could initiate Get Out of the Cold programs. His father was reluctant to do this but Aziraphale hoped to change his mind soon with the success of the dinners. He only hoped he was up for the challenge. Because of his father’s relectance, Aziraphale had basically been left on his own to take on the whole thing. 

Being a young adult, Aziraphale had a lot of responsibility as it was, so taking on something this big was daunting. But he had a plan! The other day he started first with asking the more dedicated congregation to come in for a meeting to ask for volunteers. There needed to be someone to prepare, cook, serve, and clean up for these dinners. Most of the long time goers of their ministry were older, some retired and some not. They were all kind people looking for more purpose in life.

Happily, they were keen to the idea and quickly came up with recipes and duties to start off with. They made promises of bringing their families to help whenever they could and they thanked Aziraphale for taking action. When Miss Pearl had kissed his hand and held it tightly with tears in her eyes, he’d truly known he was doing the right thing. 

This morning Aziraphale had gone to Costco to register the church there so they could get their supplies. It took entirely too long, especially since Aziraphale did not drive. Luckily the buses ran on time. Feeling optimistic, he decided to go ahead and start gathering things he knew he would need. He grabbed plastic plates, silverware, takeout containers, cups, and mixes to make teas, lemonades, and coffee along with cream and sugar. 

He took the bus back to the church to tell his father of the progress he made. Sandalphon did not seem impressed but promised to spread the word. It was too late in the week to start that coming Saturday so Aziraphale’s goal was to host the first official dinner on the next. His next goal was to start talking to local vendors in hopes of getting some support from them. Before talking to his father, he’d reached out through the proper channels to see how much funding they could receive. It had been a pretty sizeable grant for the remainder of the year but every pound counted when he had no idea how many meals they would be serving. 

He was on his way to a local shop that had regular deliveries of bread and other sweets when he thought to take a detour to one of his favorite shops. Aziraphale was a bit old fashioned in his tastes and one of his favorite things to do was to browse through the antique shop for something interesting to add to his ever growing collection. 

He figured it was still early, only edging on ten now, so he had plenty of time to visit the three shops he’d planned for the day. Down the street, he could see what appeared to be a man struggling to walk. He looked to be in pain and Aziraphale rushed down the road when the man fell. He stopped running but kept a quick pace about halfway down the street when he saw another man dressed in all black get out of a sleek black car and go for the man. 

The man looked up and met Aziraphale’s eyes, at least, he thought so. Hard to tell with the dark sunglasses. It was then the blond realized the hurt man was wearing a rather crude mask that looked like an angel, halo included. The man in the sunglasses reached up and touched his face, as if realizing he wasn’t. He cursed and started to drag the other man to the car. Aziraphale opened his mouth to shout though honestly he wasn’t sure what he would have said. 

It was then he became aware of the commotion inside the store. The tall man was coming back towards the shop, mask now firmly on his face when two more people bolted out of the door and past him towards the car. The store owner, a man named Joseph who Aziraphale knew well, came barreling out after them while blindly waving a shotgun around wildly like a baseball bat. Aziraphale felt frozen in place, standing between criminals and someone he considered a friend. He thought for certain he’d be hit with the long barrel, or worse, shot. 

Suddenly, there was a hand in his and then Aziraphale found himself pulled out of the way and on the ground. He closed his eyes on impact but felt no pain. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself learning over the redheaded man who was flat on his back on the sidewalk. The man’s mask had flown off, as had his sunglasses. Aziraphale was met with the most beautiful amber color. He looked positively terrified. He opened his mouth again when Joseph came out of nowhere and grabbed the back of the golden eyed man’s jacket and pulled him from the ground, forcing Aziraphale up as well. 

Joseph shoved the man up against the wall of the shop. He was a large man who managed to trap the other there with one arm while he dialed his cell phone with the other. Aziraphale noticed the car was gone. His friends had left him there alone. The young man squirmed harshly trying to get out of Joseph’s grip but it did not appear as if he wanted to escape. He was reaching for his discarded sunglasses on the ground. Aziraphale quickly grabbed them and handed them back to the thin man. He stopped resisting. By now there was a crowd and police sirens in the background coming towards them.

“Did he hurt you,” Joseph asked. 

“No, no,” the blond waved his hands around frantically, his voice a near scream. He wanted to voice what happened but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he sighed and asked, “Actually Joseph I think you can ease a bit on the force, don’t you?” 

The older man hesitated but did what Aziraphale suggested. Crowley rested his back against the wall and didn’t move. He could have, he figured, if he wanted to but he was too busy watching the young man in front of him to give it more than a second’s thought 

The police came just seconds later and Aziraphale was pushed back by an officer into the crowd. It all seemed to happen in a blur and with the crowds going in and out, each movement he saw seemed like a different scene in front of him. It only took a minute for the other young man to be hauled off into the police car. 

A shiver ran down his spine. He was certain, even in all the chaos around him, that the man was staring at him. Aziraphale watched the car go until it was out of sight. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first story that I have written with a character referred to with they/them pronouns and I hope I did so correctly and respectfully. Let me know if I made a mistake and I will fix it. I asked on tumblr if I should do this story or a College AU. I ended up starting both but I want to focus on this one for now. I have no Beta, so all mistakes are mine.


	2. The Book

Crowley sat uncomfortably, arms on the table and his head down in an attempt to keep his eyes out of sight. The cops had taken his sunglasses, along with everything else he had on him when he was processed. After, they all but threw him in an interrogation room with too bright lights and a broken chair and forced him to stay seated until the detectives were ready to talk to him. His head was pounding and his body ached. He had a large cut on the back of his left hand from when he fell earlier. He rubbed it absentmindedly. 

He couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing, no matter how hard he focused on it. He tried to think of something other than his impending doom to calm down but could only think of how angry Bee probably was. Not only had he been caught but he was certain they didn’t get the money. None of them were holding anything they didn’t go in with and the bag Bee always kept was flat and empty. He wondered if they were waiting it out or if they’d all already left town. Probably left; they didn’t trust him any more than he trusted them. They probably believed he’d spill his guts as soon as the police asked. If it had been any other way, he wouldn’t have even stopped at home. 

Eventually, he managed to even out his breathing and thought about what got him there. He had no idea what happened in that store. Ligur had been hurt. He saw the blood- though thankfully for him it hadn’t been much-when he grabbed him and shoved him into the car. He didn’t think he was shot, surely he would have heard one if the store owner had actually fired. He was still hurt enough to run away from a fight. If he’d been any more hurt, Bee would have left him. Still could, if they felt it was necessary. 

Crowley was going to go in and get Bee and Hastur out before it got any more out of control when they came charging out with the owner right behind them. The blond man just happened to get in the way. It was unfortunate that he’d been coming down the street at the exact time Ligur came out and fell, otherwise he never would have come running. Probably to help, too. Didn’t see that too often. 

Crowley knew he could have run, if he had just run back with the others and got into the car, he’d probably be home packing what little crap he had to get out of town. He could have but when he saw that gun going for that man’s head, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t say he didn’t think before he acted because he did, for one split second he thought of what to do and then reached for the man’s hand. 

He hadn’t meant to fall. The other man had lost his footing when he was yanked forward and Crowley was unprepared to catch his weight. They fell, his glasses and mask came off, and he barely noticed the others leaving him behind as he looked up into the man’s pale blue eyes. Maybe he should have run then, shoved the man away and taken off but before he could even catch his breath, the store owner had yanked him up and shoved him against the wall. 

And the blond? He’d given him his glasses back. It was the single kindest thing anyone had ever done for him. Maybe the only truly kind thing anyone had done for him. He shivered, thinking back to his eyes. He wondered what his name was. Wondered if he would ever see him again. He closed his eyes and shook his head, forced his leg to stop. No, he probably never would. 

He steeled himself against everything on the outside and tried to pretend like he was in control. If they were watching from the other side of the two-way mirror, then he didn’t stand a chance but on the likelihood that they weren’t just yet, he might be able to make them think they were wasting their time trying to get information out of him. 

Bee would slit his throat if he talked. 

He wasn’t getting out of this but he couldn’t drag the others into it either. Rolling his head around dramatically, he yelled out, “Can we get on with this already!?” 

…

_ “Please,”  _ Aziraphale gritted out through his teeth, his voice practically a whine at this point as he tried and failed to have someone pay attention to him. Normally he’d feel proud of the police force working as hard as they did and keeping focus but this was getting rather ridiculous. He was not pleased at all. “I need to speak to someone about the robbery that just happened.”

A middle-aged woman with brown hair held her finger up to silence him, then motioned to her watch. He sat down at the seat next to her desk without permission, forgoing his manners in favor of irritating her as much as she was irritating him. It seemed to work because she put down her pen and turned towards him, her lips pressed into a thin line. 

“What do you want, kid?” 

Aziraphale frowned. He was certainly no child. Young, absolutely but no child. He decided not to be anymore irritated than he already was and move on to the matter at hand. “The robbery, at the antique shop. I was there and the police did not take my statement.” He had gotten shuffled around in the mess and then all the patrol officers had gone, leaving the crowd murmuring with each other about what might have happened and Aziraphale standing there with a story to tell and no one to tell it to. 

The woman pressed her lips into an even finer line before taking her notebook out and sitting it down in front of her. She sighed, closed her eyes for a brief moment, and then grabbed her pen. “Okay,” she started, still obviously annoyed, “What exactly did you see?” 

…

It took just under three minutes for the two detectives to come into the room. The two men were both dressed in inexpensive suits and wore matching hard and grim looks. One of the men, older with greying hair was holding a cup of coffee and a manilla folder came and sat down in one of the chairs across the table from him. The other, younger with broad shoulders, stood against the wall opposite the two way mirror, arms crossed. 

Crowley looked between them slowly, eyeing them both up and down and then as if acknowledging an old friend he didn’t care to see, he said, voice low, “Hi.” 

“Hello, Anthony,” the older man greeted him, making Crowley sneer at the use of his first name. He’d always hated it, growing up, once he’d learned where it came from. No one called him it anymore, not if they knew what was good for them. “I assume you know the level of trouble you’re in at the moment?” 

“You’re not getting anything from me.” 

“It’ll be better for you if you talk, ya know,” the young man took the three necessary steps forward and leaned down until his fists were pressed down on the table, like a gorilla. “There’s no deal for you if you don’t.”

“There’s no  _ deal  _ either way,” he spat back. He may get less time, maybe even no time if he had the right information they wanted but even if the police managed to arrest Bee and the others, they would be out eventually. Crowley would be running for the rest of his life. That wasn’t a deal no matter how the men in front of him spun it. 

The young detective knocked his fist against the table twice, his jaw set in a way that told Crowley he was frustrated. He looked down at the table briefly and took a shaky breath he hoped they didn’t notice. That was good. That meant they had nothing on the others and were relying on Crowley for more information. Soon they would be searching his home if they were not already. They wouldn’t find anything, of course, because Bee was meticulous and didn’t allow him or his roommates to keep anything incriminating. If Hestur and Ligur hadn’t made a run for it, they would be going on with their normal lives and setting up alibis for themselves. Bee would have a backup plan in place. 

“We’re searching you home as we speak,” the older one said, glancing up casually from the files he’d brought in to check Crowley’s reaction. 

“Called it,” Crowley tsked, lifting his right hand to give the other man ‘finger guns’. 

“You’re throwing your life away, don’t you realize that? If you don't start talking, we’re going to throw the book at you!”

Crowley shrugged. He didn’t have much of a life to begin with, not one he cared to keep. He had wanted out for so long. Just this morning he was thinking about how much he hated his life and how much he wanted to escape. This wasn’t what he had hoped for but it would do. He could work with this. 

“I just want names, that’s all,” the older detective tried again, sliding a notepad and pen over to them. The younger one tapped his knuckles on the paper almost aggressively, encouraging him to do what they wanted. 

Crowley looked down at the pad, then between the two men before him. “Does this technique really work on others,” he asked and slide the pad back to the detective. 

…

“...and that is when Joseph came out of the shop, waving his gun around violently! If it had not been for that man you have in that room, I could be dead! He grabbed me out of the way and that’s why he got caught. So, you see, you… you.” Aziraphale’s voice died down as he finished his story. Honestly, he had no idea what this woman needed to do or what he wanted to happen. All he knew was that he needed someone to know what that young man had done for him. 

“So, he’s stupid and that’s how he got caught. He should have just run,” the woman said as she finished her note and looked up at him. 

At this, Aziraphale had decided to take offense. “I do not know which is worse. The fact that _ that  _ is what you take away from my statement or that you seem to honestly seem to believe that young man is stupid for helping me.” 

“Listen, kid-”

Aziraphale huffed. 

“Are we done? If so, I need you to look over this statement and sign it for me, would ya? I gotta get back to work.” 

With a roll of his eyes, the blond took the notebook from her and started to read over the statement. He corrected her when he felt she misinterpreted something and made sure to stress the decency and kindness the other man had shown. About halfway through, the door across the room opened and the redheaded man was hauled out by two men until he was out of Aziraphale’s sight. 

“What’s going to happen to him,” he asked quietly, unable to take his eyes off him. 

The woman before him did not look up from her computer. “By the looks of things he hasn’t given up his partners. That means no deal, so, most likely, he’s going to prison.” 

Aziraphale did not respond. He finished his review of the statement, signed his name, and stood up. He did not like this officer, not in the slightest. Still, he bowed his head and thanked her for her time. 

She looked at him then, up and down, and then turned her head to look in the direction they lead the other man. “Look, is he your boyfriend or something?” 

Aziraphale blushed and took a step back. “What? No! I never met the man before in my life!” 

The officer rolled her eyes. “Either way, forget about him. You’re better off without him.” 

Aziraphale huffed again, already wording his complaint of the officer in his head as he walked towards the exit. She hadn’t been wearing a name tag but he committed her face to memory. Just then, a familiar figure walked by him. “Michael!” 

The woman in question stopped and turned slowly towards him. Oh, how could he have forgotten about his cousin Michael!? “Hello, Aziraphale,” she said, painting a fake smile on her face. “What do I owe the pleasure?” The patrol officer she was with nodded their head and continued on their way, leaving the two alone. 

“The robbery, well, attempted I believe, the one that occurred about an hour ago?” 

“What about it?” 

“I was there.” 

Michael sighed, stuck between wanting him to leave and having a rather unshakable sense of duty in her job. “Did you give your statement?” 

All of his previous anger came back. “Yes, but I had to come down here myself to do so and argue to have someone pay me any attention and the woman in there who finally did was awfully rude!” 

Michael smirked, gave a quiet amused chuckle. Poor manners had always been a pet peeve of his and it showed. “What is it that you want from me, exactly?”

He looked around to make sure no one was paying them any attention and then stepped forward so he could speak more privately with her. The tall woman raised an eyebrow. Whatever it was, it had to be good in order to get her dear cousin to behave this way. “I want you to take me to wherever he is. I need to see him.” 

Michael looked at him in disbelief but looked around to make sure no one was paying them any mind still. She was...curious, to say the least. “Follow me,” she murmured and then walked off in the direction the two men had taken the other man before. No one questioned them as they walked through the building, eventually ending up where they kept the prisoners already processed. 

“Slow day,” Aziraphale tried to make a light joke. There were only three people in the cells, including the redhead. Michael did not answer. Just turned to the guard on duty and told him to take a walk. The office did without question. “Thank you, Michael.”

“You’ve got five minutes.” 

She left with the other officer, closing the door behind her. Aziraphale knew she would not go far. He was actually surprised she had indulged him at all. They didn’t have the best relationship to begin with and Michael had always been a stickler for the rules when it came to her job. 

When Aziraphale looked back at the cell, the redhead was staring at him. He opened his mouth but was unsure how to start when the man in the cell spoke. 

“Her name is Michael?” 

The blond huffed out a small laugh. “Yes, she’s my cousin.” 

“How unfortunate.” 

He was pretty certain the man was still talking about her name and he agreed. He always thought she should have gotten a name that was clearly meant to refer to an angel, as he did. At least then the idea would be clear from the start. In any case, most people just thought she was a girl named Michael until they learned of her family. “Well, my name is Aziraphale.” 

“Religious family then,” the other man concluded instead of making fun of his name. He was grateful. “Don’t tell me you have a bad boy brother running around named Lucifer.”

Aziraphale chuckled again, still nervous, “No, no. I do, however, have an asshole brother by the name of Gabriel.” The redhead cracked a smile at him, though it did not reach his golden eyes. “And your name?” he pushed. 

“...Crowley.” 

“Crowley, yes, I rather like that.” He wrung his hands together, a nervous habit he never shook. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I guess I came to thank you for saving me earlier.” 

“Don’t say that,” Crowley moved until he was right up against the bars. “I’m in enough trouble as it is and if my people realize I got caught saving you, they’ll do more than throw the book at me as these lot will do.” 

“Your people, yes,” Aziraphale murmured. “I heard you wouldn’t talk. Quite admirable, I suppose, in a way.” He came closer until they could touch each other if they reached out. They didn’t. “I don’t think they’d give you the same courtesy if the tables were turned. They left you to get caught.”

Crowley shrugged. “I probably would have left them too, given the opportunity. It’s not about that, anyway.” 

Aziraphale didn’t believe that because he had the opportunity and instead got out of the car to help the wounded man. He didn’t mention this, though. He wanted to ask him what it was about, if not about being loyal to them. He wanted to ask him why he’d saved him, why he hadn’t run when he had the chance. He wanted to ask him what he was going to do, what might happen to him, and strangely, if he thought they might see one another again. 

Michael came back into the room then, seemed almost surprised by what she found and then motioned to Aziraphale that they needed to go. 

“I guess I should get going.” 

Crowley only nodded. What was there to say? They didn’t even know one another. Crowley knew it was ridiculous but he wanted Aziraphale to stay. He may very well be the last decent person he speaks to for a while. He wanted to hold on to it. He looked him over one more time. In everything that happened, he almost hadn’t realized how attractive he found Aziraphale to be. Almost. Crowley gave his best smirk and leaned forward a little. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” he joked lightly.

As Aziraphale walked away, out of the police station and back to St Francis’, he thought,  _ “Yes, perhaps you will.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem possessed and absolutely need to keep working on this. Please feel free to tell me what you think!


	3. Hard Times

_ “...and when Moses' hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword.”  _

Aziraphale sat in the front pew of St. Francis’ and listened to his father’s sermon. He was more stressed than he led on, more excited than he could explain. His entire body buzzed with uncertainty. He was a bit distracted as well, his mind wandering back to Crowley and his impending fate whenever he let his guard down. 

His father had chosen this sermon today for Aziraphale. While the blond had to ask him for it, he was still eternally grateful for his decision in the dinner’s favor. His father still had doubts, still raised his eyebrows whenever the subject was brought up but seemed a little more willing to help now that the dinners were really happening. 

They were really happening. It wasn’t just a dream anymore. In less than a week it would be a reality and Aziraphale was a complete wreck over it. 

He’d talked to local stores, got promises of donations of baked goods, fresh fruits and vegetables, and even capital contribution from the bookshop down the way. His lovely volunteers had planned out the next month of meals, the ingredients had been bought and plans set for this coming Saturday. 

He was so excited he could barely contain himself at times. Not even Gabriel could dampen his mood and of course, the older man had tried. Almost thirty years old and Gabriel still acted like a spoiled brat. Their father had always preferred him. They both knew it but only Gabriel cared. Aziraphale felt sorry for him if being perfectly honest. How terrible an existence to need to outdo someone all the time, to feel superior so not to feel worthless? Dreadful. 

Simply because he was thinking about him, Aziraphale turned his head slightly to the right to peer up at him. Even with his perfect posture, Gabriel always seemed to tower over him, despite only being a couple of inches taller. Gabriel seemed to sense him looking immediately because he turned his head to look down his nose at him before turning back to their father. 

“My wonderful son, Aziraphale, has reminded me of the great importance of helping others. We must not forget our teachings. Everyone is in need of a helping hand at one point or another, some more than others. It is our duty to do His work. To help hold each other up, side by side, time and time again in these hard times.” 

It was interesting, how a man like Gabriel could sit in the front pew and look like he was drinking the words of God like a lifeline, but be so disconnected from anything resembling compassion and humanity. Aziraphale remembered how a snide remark from Gabriel had been the final straw to move this project forward, and he smiled. 

“...and it is an honor for me to stand here with pride and announce that starting this coming Saturday, and every Saturday after, my two sons will be hosting a dinner for those who may need a helping hand. Please feel free to come and eat or to volunteer or just to spread good cheer. We welcome everyone.” 

Gabriel frowned. He had not actually wanted anything to do with the dinners, so to hear his name attached to it was almost intolerable. Of course, now he would have to make an appearance. Probably pretend to work and take credit while Aziraphale did more than both their shares.

“I would also like to take this moment to thank those who have already volunteered your time and energy into this project. For far too long we have ignored what was right in front of us but no more. Together we can make a difference and in His name, we shall love one another.” 

“You wrote this, didn’t you,” Gabriel mumbled under his breath, looking more bored than Aziraphale had seen him in a while. 

The younger pressed his lips together-as if he’d write giving Gabriel any credit-and shook his head, subtly, “No, but I made some suggestions.” 

“I can tell,” his brother replied, checking his watch. “How much more?” 

Aziraphale did the same. Normally he loved to be here. Loved to be within the four walls of the Lord, where the congregation’s faith and love filled the air. And even though his father was encouraging the dinners and singing praises he rarely heard, he had so much to prepare for still. 

“Not much.” 

The blond looked back. Two pews behind him sat Michael. He found her already looking at him. She nodded her head once and he did the same in understanding. 

“...and to also thank the local shops that have already made contributions to this Saturday’s dinner. And remember,  _ My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. _ God Bless.” 

Sandalphon raised his arms to his congregation, then stepped aside for the closing parts of the sermon. The organ played beautifully, Uriel was a true angel on the instrument. The ushers moved around the room quietly, finishing up. People began to stand and file out. 

Miss Pearl and Agnes drifted off to the side to chat, two young people hanging around them that Aziraphale recognized but did not know well. Agnes waved him over. With a quick apologetic glance to Michael, he hurried over to them. 

Miss Pearl, as she often did, took his hands in hers and clutched them tightly. Agnes placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed once before letting her hand fall to her side. “I recognize your work anywhere, what a lovely sermon.” 

Aziraphale blushed. “I only made suggestions, honestly.” 

“You have a real passion, dear child,” Miss Pearl continued, “It’s almost a shame you will not follow your father’s footsteps. All the same, we know your dedication. That is more than enough. More than we can say about others.” 

Aziraphale nodded. His father’s life was not his calling, this he knew for certain and had for a long time. He needed to pursue other opportunities but would never forget his roots, or his teachings of God and Their love. 

“I believe you met my granddaughter,” Agnes interjected, motioning for the young woman to move forward. She was probably about sixteen, he figured. Dark skin and round-framed glasses on her nose. A bit out of style, he thought, but absolutely believed she did not care. “This is Anathema.” 

“Ah, yes, I remember now.” How could he forget a name like that? He did know her, but not well. The slight age difference and all. They always ran in different circles, for one. For two, Anathema was also not a regular churchgoer as her grandmother was. “It’s nice to see you again. How is school going?” He politely shook her hand and then placed his hands behind his back. 

“Very well, thank you.” 

“And this is my grandson, Newton,” Miss Pearl said, bringing the young man forward. Aziraphale repeated the same process. “They’ve become quite close, these two. We thought they could use an activity to do outside of the house, so they’ll be helping us volunteer on Saturday.” 

Aziraphale smiled, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. He could read between the lines. “Quite. Well, it’ll be wonderful to have you two help. Thank you so much for your time.” 

“Our pleasure,” Newton said, not seeming at all put off on having to give up one of his free days for something most others never consider. He glanced over at Anathema and smiled in such a way that made Aziraphale want to smile as well. How lovely. 

He talked with them for a couple more moments, increasingly aware of Michael’s frustration behind them. He assigned them to the Take Out station. He’d give them a chance to prove themselves together since they obviously would like to spend the time together. Their grandmothers did not seem to mind. They would be in full sight of them the whole time, after all. 

After, he bid them safe travels home and made his way back to Michael. Besides Uriel, who was organizing the sheet music for the organ, they were completely alone. “I’m terribly sorry.” 

“Ever the gentlemen,” she mocked with a roll of her eyes. “You’re lucky I’m still here.” 

“Yes,” he said, realizing just how true that was. “Why are you still here?” 

Michael leaned back in the pew, her posture almost as straight as his normally is. Her makeup made her face practically sparkle. At work, she wasn’t capable of this but on Sundays, she almost always looked like a movie star. “I’m curious, actually. I thought for sure you knew this Anthony man.” 

“Anthony?” 

She blinked. “That’s his name. His first name. Anthony J. Crowley is his full name.” 

Aziraphale nodded. He wondered why Crowley would go by his last name. He thought the name Anthony was rather charming but quickly brushed the thought off. If his last name had been anything other than Fell, he too might have decided that for himself. People had their reasons. 

“If you don’t know him,” Michael started, “why do you want to know about him?” 

The man paused. There was something so wonderfully mysterious about Crowley. Something different, possibly a little broken and definitely kind that made him what to get to know him better. He had saved him from terrible injury at the cost of getting himself arrested. Aziraphale had not known many criminals in his life, but he knew enough to know their situation was a little unusual. He wanted to drink in everything Michael could give him but knew in his heart if he did it should come from the other man. “I just want to know if he’s been in trouble before.” 

Michael stared him down a moment but answered. “Just once. About four years ago when he was sixteen. Got into a fight with his foster dad.” 

Aziraphale wished to ask, so many questions on the tip of his tongue but held back. “Thank you, very much Michael for all your help. I truly owe you.” 

“Yeah, well, like I said I’m curious. Half expected you to have your pants around your ankles when I came back to the cell.” 

The blush that ran through him spread to his chest. “I would never!” 

Michael grinned, shrugging. “You never know.” 

“I most certainly do,” he replied, lip as stiff as his spine. 

She rolled her eyes warmly, her smile growing. “Anyway, I’ve got to go unless you want anything else from me?” 

He shook his head, still flustered. “No, no. That is all I need, thank you again.” 

Together they walked out of the church and into the summer sun. The days of the swindling heat were dwindling down. Soon it would be Fall and too soon after it would be Winter. It reminded him of how much work he had to do before then. Before they parted, Aziraphale thought of one more thing to ask. “His sentencing is still tomorrow, correct?” 

“At ten.” 

“I’ll be there.” 

Michael did not look at all surprised, just nodded her head before heading off towards her car. Aziraphale watched her go before heading in the opposite direction for the bus. He needed to do some final touches on some school work while he gained his nerve for tomorrow. His talk with Michael had solidified his decision and he only hoped it all worked out in their favor. 

…

Crowley had spent the last four days in the small cell waiting for his sentencing. In all, it wasn’t that bad. He’d certainly had worse accommodations before. At least he was mostly left alone, besides the two brief visits from his lawyer and whenever they decided to feed him. It was lucky for him that he didn’t have much of a stomach for food in general, as the food there was less than appealing.

His lawyer had been upset with him for speaking without him originally. Crowley had just rolled his eyes. He hadn’t actually given them anything they wanted and he knew he’d have been no different with a dime-store attorney by his side. Mr. Peters had argued he may have been able to get him a different deal for a reduced sentence but Crowley only shrugged it off. He’s done the crime, he’d do the time. Wasn’t that the saying? 

Mr. Peters had tried to persuade him to plead not guilty and Crowley had very nearly laughed in his face. The police had basically caught him red-handed. The lawyer argued that they could say that he had no idea what his friends were doing, they just because his DNA was in the mask did not mean he wore it for a robbery, that he was simply taken advantage of. Crowley knew, without him having to say it, that this defense would mean giving up his partners. 

He was almost tempted when the lawyer told him he’d have to call Aziraphale to the stand. 

He shook his head no in the end, kept his head high despite the bright light. His eyes had always been a little over sensitive without his glasses. His head was pounding at this point but he couldn’t allow anyone around him to see him vulnerable, not when he was looking at actual prison time. The last four days had been a cakewalk for what he imagined to come. 

He hadn’t heard anything else about the others, so he assumed they hadn’t made a run for it just yet. Otherwise, he probably would have heard from the detectives again asking where they might have gone. Bee must have taken the correct precautions, the others had alibis the detectives couldn't break, and they would have found nothing in the apartment. They were probably all lying low, buying time to see how it all played out. 

While they were all likely ready to run, he was standing before the court, dressed in the dirty clothes he was arrested in, and waiting for the judge to start the proceedings. Most people were in their seats and ready to start when the door opened. Crowley turned his head out of curiosity. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Aziraphale come in, looking soft and dapper in a light-colored suit. Their eyes met and Crowley swore he saw the other man blush. He nodded to him and then came to sit a couple of rows behind him. 

Mr. Peters elbowed him to regain his attention. The judge had come in and Crowley straightened up quickly. His lawyer placed a gentle but firm had on his arm and leaned over. The redhead allowed himself to be moved the small distance but did not take his eyes off the judge. 

“You could get eighteen months, Mr. Crowley. That’s what could happen if you plead guilty. Any chance I can change your mind?” 

Crowley could feel Aziraphale staring at him but was unsure how. He was certain if he turned his head and looked, they would lock eyes again. Swallowing, he shook his head no. 

The name on the plague said Judge Masters. He was a large, older man with grey hair and what could only be called ‘grandpa glasses’, which were pressed to his forehead. “Anthony J. Crowley you stand before the court accused of attempted burglary. The report says that you refused to cooperate with the detectives when questioned. How do you plead?” 

Taking a deep breath, Crowley looked up until he met the judge’s eyes. “Guilty, your honor.” 

The judge didn’t seem surprised. He didn’t look much like anything at all. He looked over the paperwork in front of him another moment, then back to Crowley. He folded his hands together in front of him. “Am I to believe that you still will not cooperate with the police regarding your partners?” 

Crowley smirked, “Unfortunately, your honor.” 

The man nodded his head. “Alright, well, is there anything either of you would like to say on your behalf before sentencing?” 

“...I actually have something to say, your honor, if you would be so kind.” 

The people in the room turned to look at Aziraphale, who now stood from his spot. His arms were behind his back and his blush was back, dark red and running down his neck from having so many people stare at him. 

“Aziraphale,” Judge Masters asked, squinting to see him better despite his glasses on the top of his head. “Well, this is unusual but seeing as I have great respect for you and your family, I will allow it.” 

The blond nodded his thanks. “May I, as they say, approach the bench?” 

The judge smiled and nodded his head. Aziraphale walked until they were basically face to face. The whole time Crowley’s heart was hammering in his chest so loud he thought it might bust out and make a break for it. “What can I do you for, Aziraphale?” 

“Your honor,” the young man started, seemingly unsure of himself. He turned to look at Crowley momentarily, saw the confusion mixed with something that could have been called hope and then turned back to the judge. “I have come to ask you for some leniency for Mr. Crowley. I cannot honestly tell you I know this man. In fact, we just met but I believe there’s some good in him. I don’t suppose you read my statement?” 

Judge Masters looked confused, sorted through his papers, and then looked to the lawyer standing next to Crowley. Sheepishly, Mr. Peters handed over his copy of the document and the judge took a moment to look it over. “I see what you mean but what do you suppose I do?” 

At this, Aziraphale gave a soft smile. “Well, I’d been thinking about that actually. I do not know for certain it will be enough for you but you know on Saturday we’re planning to host dinners at the church. I could use some more hands.” 

“I am no stranger to community service, Aziraphale,” the older man told him. He looked at Crowley over the blond’s shoulder. He noticed the other man was staring. He didn’t look hopeful anymore. Instead, he looked a little lost. He took a deep breath and shuffled the papers back into the folder.“Are you to tell me, Aziraphale Fell, that you are willing to take responsibility for this young man?” 

Without hesitation, he nodded. “Yes, your honor.” 

Masters nodded as well. “So be it. Please, have a seat.” He waited until Aziraphale was seated back down before addressing Crowley. “It seems you have someone on your side, Mr. Crowley. I was going to sentence you to prison. I thought, and still do, that a couple of months behind bars would do you some good but as it is technically your first offense, no violence was committed by your person, and because of the kindness you showed in that situation, I am going to release you with time served and three hundred hours of community service to be completed within a year under Mr. Fell’s supervision. Now, dismissed, and please, make some better decisions for yourself.” 

It was as if everything had been moving in slow motion before, and suddenly the world sped up leaving Crowley alone and unable to breathe. The lawyer clapped him on the shoulder and without a word, scurried off to wherever his kind went. He was released with the information of when and where to pick up his belongings, given instructions to contact Aziraphale within the week and practically shoved out the door without a second thought.

The bright rays of the sun did nothing to help his pounding headache. Now that there was no one around to witness it, he ducked his head and covered his eyes with his right hand as he walked down the steps of the courthouse. He stood at the bottom, feeling lost. He thought he’d be on a bus to a large grey building with a lot of bars at that moment. He wasn’t sure what to do now that that wasn't a reality. 

“Hello,” a voice suddenly said from behind him. He turned quickly, startled. He relaxed when he saw it was Aziraphale. “Erm, here. I brought these, just in case.” He reached into his pocket and took out a pair of dark sunglasses with thin circle frames. They looked like they belonged in the ’60s. 

Forcing his hand not to shake, Crowley took the offering. It did not erase his headache but took the beating in his head to a much lower level. After, they stood there for a moment in silence until Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and asked, “Should I say thank you?” It was delivered in his best casually sarcastic tone. 

To his credit, the blond chuckled. “Let’s just say we’re even.” Crowly nodded then, not having anything more to say. Luckily, it appeared Aziraphale did. “Have you ever heard of St. Francis’ church?” 

Crowley shook his head no. “Well, it’s four blocks north of the antique shop. I know you have some time to do your hours but Saturday is the first dinner and it’d be wonderful to have you there. Anyways,” he smiled, all teeth and dimples, “I should let you get off. It was nice to see you again.” 

He left then, leaving the redhead to watch him go until he was out of sight. Once he was, Crowley shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and set off towards the apartment. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to tell the others. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a research paper rough draft due Tuesday that I have not started, plus a test on Saturday and a company picnic to go to Sunday. I'll start writing the next chapter as soon as I have time. It should be up before the end of next week. Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments. They are wonderful and I am deeply flattered by them. I am enjoying this story so much I absolutely cannot wait to see where it goes!
> 
> I should probably also mention that I am an American and have little knowledge of the justice system over there but we're just gonna pretend that I am 100% correct :).
> 
> Bible Verses: Exodus 17:12  
> John 15:12


	4. Saturday Morning Funtime

Aziraphale woke up Saturday morning before his alarm went off. He lay in bed for a couple of moments, staring at the ceiling and just breathing. He knew he needed to get up and head to the church. Despite all the work he and the others had been put in the last week, he still had a lot to do and prepare before the dinner later that night. 

It had been a long week and Aziraphale was drowning in work. Luckily his body had never needed a lot of sleep to function. He was only getting a couple of hours a night as it was at the moment, what with school, work, and now the dinners. At least his summer class was almost over with. He just needed to find the time to finish his paper for Tuesday. Tomorrow, most likely, because he certainly wouldn’t have the time today and he worked all Monday. 

He almost had not taken on this project at all but something had propelled him forward. God, perhaps. Or maybe the look on Gabriel’s face when he’d told Aziraphale under no certain terms could he ever achieve it all. Or maybe even his father’s look of hesitation when he mentioned it for the first time in passing, before applying for the grant and hearing his father’s plans to possibly transfer. 

All he believed, all he knew, was that this was what he was meant to be doing. If he had to sacrifice more sleep or any chance of social life, so be it. It wasn’t like he had much of a social life as it was, he wasn’t Gabriel. Or Michael, who always seemed to be out with friends every other night of the week. 

For some reason, at that exact moment, he’d thought of Crowley. They weren’t friends, hardly acquaintances as it would be. They didn’t know the first thing about each other, nothing that really mattered at the end of the day, anyway. And now Aziraphale was technically his supervisor. He was responsible for him if he bothered to come at all. It wasn’t like he was a probation officer, he couldn’t track him down if he didn’t come. Only fill out the paperwork and send it up. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, stretched, and thought more of Crowley. First, he thought of his eyes, golden and bright. Beautiful. Aziraphale wondered if they had something to do with the headaches he was almost certain the other man suffered from or if there was something else going on. He thought of him in the outdated sunglasses he’d given him and smiled. He really should have looked ridiculous but instead, he looked rather...lovely. 

Next, he thought of his hair, unnaturally red and styled perfectly on top of his head. It suited the man rather well, Aziraphale thought. He then thought of his long lean legs, the sharpness of his jawline, and the seemingly taut stomach underneath his dark clothes. Immediately, he felt his body react. He sat up in an instant and tried to dispel the thoughts in his head. It was hardly appropriate for him to be thinking of Crowley in such a matter. He would not allow himself to go any further. How was he supposed to look him in the eye and work next to him if all he thought about was this moment here? 

Sighing at the time, he pulled himself out of bed and started to get ready for the day. His alarm still hadn’t gone off yet. 

…

The church was still quiet when he got there. It was too early to start preparing the food but he made himself busy by getting the basement of the church ready. St. Francis’ had done the dinners once before, several years ago in fact. They had been started and maintained by the pastor there before his father. Aziraphale had still been young then. His father had promised to keep them going but soon they dwindled and before long, they stopped altogether. 

There was a storage room off to the side where several foldable tables and chairs had been put when the dinners stopped. They’d only been taken out periodically since then, perhaps once or twice a year, for other activities since. 

They were, for lack of a better word, disgusting. It had been on Aziraphale’s list all week to get in and clean them off but had never gotten around to it until now. It was lucky for them that they were still in good enough shape to use. Aziraphale was not sure he could justify such a large expense upfront when they were still in the beginning stages. 

So Aziraphale set to work, taking out the tables one by one and washed away all the dirt and grime that gathered. He labored over them and then the chairs until they all but shined under the pale fluorescent lights. After, he set them up around the empty room, making sure to space them out enough for everyone to have a comfortable amount of space to move around and eat. When he was done, he counted the seats. The area there was only big enough to seat 150 people comfortably at a time but the dinners were expected to go on for several hours so hopefully, they could feed more if necessary. It would probably take some juggling to get the hang of everything. 

The basement door opened just as he was finishing. Startled, Aziraphale looked down at his watch and saw that it had taken him close to three hours to set up. It was past nine now. Perhaps that extra time had been useful after all. He was surprised to find that it was Anathema and Newton. He almost didn’t expect them to show up at all but was happy to see them all the same. 

“Hello,” he greeted, coming forward to help with the supplies they had. Miss Pearl had been kind enough to ask the two to go with her to Costco to get the final things they needed for the dinner. It looked like she got more than they needed for the night, but that was good. Certain things could be stored and used at a later date. Originally he moved forward to help Anathema, something deeply instilled in him to run to the female but instead, he ended up helping Newt. Anathema was doing just fine on her own, but Newton, ever the clutz, looked like he was about to drop everything on the floor. “Lovely to see you both again. Thank you so much for coming.” 

“We actually planned to help anyways,” Anathema told him as they entered the kitchen area. She organized her half of the supplies on the table before moving on to the rest. She was dressed today in a dark green shirt under a pair of denim overalls, her hair up in a french braid. Newton, in contrast, was wearing sweatpants and looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. “Before we could mention anything our grandmothers had all but wrestled us here. I think this is really great, Aziraphale. Why did you decide to do this?” 

The blond smiled a bit awkwardly. He didn’t honestly wish to tell them, not the truth. So instead he cleared his throat and said, “My father is such a busy man but this program is needed in this neighborhood. Wasn’t too hard of a decision to make.” 

“Well it is great of you, everyone knows you’re the nice one.” She said in a lone tone, despite no one else being there to hear her. 

“Is Gabriel going to be here today,” Newt asked hesitantly, then frowned when Aziraphale nodded his head. 

“I have no confirmation of that, of course, but my father mentioned him in his latest sermon so I feel like he’ll show up at some point for appearances.” Aziraphale understood how Newt felt about the older man. Gabriel always had a certain demeanor about him, always telling others how he felt he was so much better than them without having to say a word. Many had believed he would follow in Sandalphon’s footsteps because of their close relationship more than they thought Aziraphale would. Most were not surprised when he hadn’t and instead had decided to pursue a career in finance. He spent most of his time in the heart of London for both business and pleasure. “All the same, we’re going to have a good first night.” 

Newt nodded before taking the stock that would keep for a later dinner into the large pantry storage room. Now that there were three of them in the kitchen, Aziraphale realized it would be difficult for all the volunteers to move around one another when the time came. 

“I think we should set the food up out there,” Anathema said, cutting through his thoughts. She was pointing out the doorway that would lead back to the seating area. “Are there any more tables?” 

“You’ve read my mind,” he commented, “and yes. A couple. Can you help me?” 

The three grabbed the remaining tables and lined them up side by side along the wall closest to the kitchen. “We can keep the food here and make the plates. We can do the take outstation on the smaller table in there. It’ll just be Newton and me.” 

Aziraphale nodded in agreement. “I don’t want this to look too much like a buffet line if we can help it. We should let the people know to please have a seat and we’ll take their orders and get their food. I don’t want it to look too much like a…” he couldn’t find the word but the others seemed to understand. 

“What else is there to do?”

“Oh, well, the bathrooms need to be cleaned around the corner. The ramp out the back needs to be cleared and swept in case someone can not make those stairs at the door, and of course, we need to prepare the food when the others arrive.” 

“On it, boss,” Anathema gave a mock salute and a warm smile. She and Newt grabbed the cleaning supplies still left out from before and headed off towards the bathrooms. They seemed like such good kids, Aziraphale thought. He caught himself and laughed. It hadn’t been that long ago that he was their age, only half a decade in fact, and yet he was thinking like an old man. Chuckling, he grabbed the broom and dustpan and headed out to clear the ramp. He was sure by the time he was done, the others would be there to start the food. 

…

Crowley didn’t see the others until Saturday morning. It was probably a blessing but over the week that he had to himself in the apartment, he’d basically worried a hole into the floor of his room. After the first day, Crowley had moved around the apartment with garbage bags and cleaned the living room, kitchen, and his bedroom up. It was technically his fault it was more disgusting than it normally was. Though, with the state of it before, it was hard to tell the police had even been there. He probably wouldn’t have known if not for his upturned mattress and small succulent he kept on his window smashed on the floor. He didn’t dare go into the other’s rooms and the door was closed, so he wasn’t even sure what their rooms looked like. 

He’d gone and gotten his phone and other belongings on Monday. He didn’t trade out his sunglasses until the next day. He had texted Hastur to let him know he was back and figured the others would know soon enough. Hastur left him on Read and never replied. He figured he was out doing his own thing, probably with Bee. He wasn’t sure if Hastur liked them on some level, or if he was just truly a kiss ass. Ligur was obviously with whatever flavor of the week he was with. Crowley knew, simply because it had happened before, that if Ligur stayed with a girl long enough and got her drunk enough for a period of time, she’d forget what days were which and cover for him without even realizing she was lying. 

They might have just been being cautious, or perhaps they really didn’t care. Crowley enjoyed the peace but knew for certain it would all come down at some point. He was debating whether or not to go to St. Francis’ to see if Aziraphale was there when the front door opened. He heard Hastur’s voice, and then Bee’s. A second later Bee banged on the door and yelled for him to come out. 

Crowley had to pull himself out of bed. After cleaning, he’d spent much of the next few days sleeping or struggling to do so. He fumbled for pants on the floor. Bee banged on the door again but Crowley knew they wouldn’t come in with the door closed in fear of seeing him naked. Bee had walked in on Ligur once with a woman and rarely came to their apartment after that, let alone entered their rooms. 

“Hi guys,” he said as he opened the door, expecting the worse. 

Bee was leaning against the outside kitchen counter, arms crossed. They scowled at him. Hastur sat on the couch to stay out of their way. “How the fuck did you get out?” 

Crowley shrugged, “I didn’t. I got sentenced to community service.” That was all they needed to know. He didn’t want them to know about Aziraphale if they didn’t already. If they believed someone out there could identify them, they might try to intimidate him into silence. More so if they knew Crowley was supposed to be spending time with him. 

“They gave you CS for an attempted robbery,” Hastur basically growled out. He had received community service a couple of years before for a pub fight where no one was hurt too terribly but he’d been arrested after knocking out the other man’s front teeth. He’d done two of his assigned hours and spent two months in jail for refusing to complete more at his hearing. 

“Guess I have a guardian angel looking out for me,” he mocked, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch. It was clean now, thanks to him. He still felt like he needed a shower for touching it. 

“What do they know about us?” Bee stepped forward aggressively. They looked ready to wring his neck. 

“Nothing that I know of.” He shrugged again. “Last I heard they were searching this place. They obviously didn’t find anything and they stopped asking. Have you guys not been back here since or what?” 

“Course not,” Hastur scolded, “Ligur went back to Amanda’s, she’ll vouch for him if necessary. Still there, too. I paid off the old guy at the end of the hall. After the diner, I came right back here and helped him around his place. Had to do the fucking work to, that asshole. Bee…” He paused, shaking his head angrily. Crowley felt he was walking into a previously had argument. 

“I told you that you do not need to know where I was because I was not with you,” They growled, “all you need to do is keep your mouth shut if you’re questioned.” They eyed Crowley, who raised his hand in understanding. In some strange twist of fate, Bee apparently decided to believe him. They pulled up a random chair and sat down. 

“What happened, by the way? I assume Ligur didn’t need medical attention if he’s been with his chick?” 

Hastur shook his head, obviously still angry over whatever Bee refused to tell him. “Ligur got attacked by the man’s dog. Small, yappy fucking thing. Took a lot of skin, though.” Crowley frowned. The police most likely had his DNA then, if they were smart enough to clean the dog’s mouth. Unlike he and Hastur though, Ligur and Bee had never been arrested. Probably had nothing to test it against and with finding nothing at the apartment, couldn’t get a warrant to serve. 

“No camera in that place,” Bee spoke quietly, “Dog always stayed in the backroom, had no idea the little rat was there. Came out when it heard all the noise. The man had a shotgun.” 

“Under the counter?” 

“No, in the drawer of an antique china cabinet behind the counter. Said he kept the safe key in there.” Bee almost sounded amused, like they were impressed the old man got the drop of them.

Crowley wondered who had done the scouting for that place but wisely decided not to ask. Bee worked with many people, most of whom they knew absolutely nothing about. 

“Anyway, what about you? We ran past you and then you were on the ground. Hastur had to drive.” They made a disapproving face. While Crowley’s driving was erratic at best, especially for a job, Hastur’s was just plain terrible.

“Horrible luck, really. I think the guy who happened upon the robbery tripped and fell when he tried to run away. Took me down with him is all.” He did his best to breathe normally and hoped that Bee didn’t question it further.

“We’ll have to lay low for a bit, especially  _ you _ ,” Bee growled out, poking him in the shoulder painfully. 

The others nodded. 

“I have a meeting, I have to go.  _ You _ ,” Bee barked, now turning their rage towards Hastur, “are not coming with me. Stay here.” 

Crowley knew a good time to leave when he saw it. Standing quickly, he slunk back to his room and crawled back into bed. He tuned out the two arguing and thankfully, fell back asleep. 

When he woke up again, it was after four in the afternoon. The sunglasses Aziraphale gave him sat on his nightstand with his regular ones. He stared at them for a moment, then picked them up and looked them over. He checked to make sure the apartment was empty before getting ready and heading out the door, sunglasses in his back pocket. 

…

The dinner was in full swing by three. People had started to show up around 2:30 and within half an hour, they were packed. Aziraphale and Agnes split up the room into sections and took the orders of the tables one by one. Today, the team had prepared homemade beef stroganoff, broccoli salad, and had both peaches and pears. Miss Pearl led the kitchen to keep it running smoothly as they got food out and replaced it as necessary. 

They had cooked several of the main dishes as it was, most still warming in the oven but with more and more people coming in, the kitchen set back to work to make sure they had enough. Adam Young, a young boy of about eleven, brought his friends in to help. Adam’s father Arthur was with them. He helped with drinks when necessary but mostly kept to himself. Adam took a notebook around and asked everyone if they wanted any takeouts, while Wensleydale helped pack and mark the takeout containers away that Anathema and Newton prepared. Brian and Pepper helped in the kitchen. 

In all the amazing chaos of the afternoon, Aziraphale did not have time to realize to Crowley wasn’t there but somehow still did. 

By half-past four, they were out of all the food they originally made and were serving the second helpings the kitchen prepared. Aziraphale had not expected it to be this busy but they had prepared for it just in case. 

Gabriel, of course, had made an appearance around four. He was wearing a suit and refused to touch any food because he did not wish to wear gloves or a hairnet. Instead, he stood in the corner and spoke with their father, who greeted those as they came in and led the group in prayer at the beginning of the night. 

Aziraphale did not feel like he took a break the whole day but was more pleased than he’d been in a while. More people than he could count had stopped him to thank him for the work he did. Several of their guests were people they knew, either from the church or the neighborhood. Each of them struggling in their own way. Some were widowers on disability, others single parents with families. Many he recognized as homeless individuals and families he’d seen with everything they owned on their backs and in small carts they carried everywhere with them. 

By five, everything was winding down but they still had people coming in periodically. “As long as we’re here, we’re open,” he explained to those who apologized for being late, shook their hands and offered them free seats while he fetched them food. The children had been told to take a break and eat themselves and were off in the far corner with Mr. Young, who looked very pleased and proud of his son and his friends. 

After he dropped off the plates for the newcomers and taken their takeout orders, Aziraphale walked over to the door. Both his father and brother were staring at him as they spoke, which either meant they were attempting to get his attention without actually trying, or they were speaking ill of him. He could not be sure of which. 

“I suppose some sort of congratulations is in order,” Gabriel asked, raising his eyebrows and motioning around the room. He still made it sound as if they hadn’t accomplished anything. His father looked pleasantly surprised with everything but Aziraphale was still cautious. He never truly knew what his father was thinking. 

“This has been an adventure,” his father said, hands resting on his stomach as he looked around the room. “And you’re certain you wish to take this on every week?” 

“Yes, father,” he answered, not bothering to explain why. Just then, the door opened. The three turned to see who it was at the same time. “Crowley,” the blond asked, a little surprised, “how wonderful of you to come.” 

He almost made it sound like he had a choice in the matter, which was kinda nice. He nodded in acknowledgment. Aziraphale turned to the others, who were eyeing them both expectantly. It was then he realized he’d never explained to them what happened. The only person who knew anything was Michael and she did not know the full story either. 

“Father, Gabriel,” he started, “erm, this is my friend, Crowley. Crowley, this is my father Sandalphon. He’s the pastor of this church and this is my brother, Gabriel.” 

Crowley shook their hands because it was expected of him. He eyed Gabriel up and down for a second and tried to keep his face neutral. He understood why Aziraphale called him an asshole before. 

“And there’s Michael, over there,” the blond motioned to his cousin in the corner. She nodded towards them but made no move to come over. Aziraphale was grateful. 

“I really must be off but congratulations on this Aziraphale. I will see you at some point this coming week, I’m sure.” his father started to excuse himself after a quick glance at his watch. “It was nice to meet you Mr…?” 

“Crowley. It’s Mr. Crowley.” 

Sandelphon raised an eyebrow but like his son, did not ask. Instead, he gracefully bowed out and walked up to his office. 

Gabriel heaved a sigh, faking a smile. “I’ll be off as well, brother. Not sure if I can make it to church tomorrow, but I’ll try. Apologize to father for me if I am unable to come.” 

“Yes, of course,” the younger agreed, his hands clasped behind his back. “Will we see you again next Saturday?” 

Gabriel frowned. “Perhaps. Anyways, goodnight.” He waved goodbye, nodded to Michael, and then bounded out the door. 

“It’s so nice to see you, Crowley. I appreciate you coming.” 

It took a second for the tall man to realize he was being spoken to. “You act like I had a choice.” 

“You did,” he insisted, “you have plenty of time to do your hours and I cannot force you, of course. Many refuse to do their hours and end up in jail later for it.” 

At this time, only a few people were hanging around. A couple of the older volunteers had gone home already. Anathema and Newt had cleaned the kitchen, put most of the food away, and gone before their grandmothers noticed with his blessing. They had done so much work and he was truly grateful. What they did together outside of the church was none of his business.

Arthur was ready to take the kids home but Adam was worried about the cleanup. Aziraphale simply smiled and told the kids to enjoy the rest of their Saturday. He felt like he could take on the world at that moment, despite running on four hours of sleep, about twelve hours of work for the day so far and that blasted paper to do. 

The group cleared out, the remaining volunteers soon after. Agnes and Miss Pearl were the last to leave when they made it to the door, besides the small family who’s come in a little late. Anathema had left out enough food for seconds for them and they already had their takeout bag. 

“Have you seen our grandchildren,” Miss Pearl eyed Crowley up and down as she spoke. He grinned at her. 

“Uh, they left maybe half an hour ago with my blessing. Such lovely children and smart, too. Especially that Anathema of yours Agnes. And Newton is just so compassionate.” 

The three exchanged a few more pleasantries though it was obvious they were not happy the teens had left without them. In the meantime, the small family had finished their meals and left. When Agnes and Miss Pearl finally did as well, Crowley and Aziraphale were alone. 

“Do I even want to know what that was about,” the redhead asked as he followed Aziraphale to the tables to clean up the remaining plates leftover. 

“Picked up on that, did you,” the other blushed a little, “Well, Agnes and Miss Pearl arranged for their grandchildren to help. They’re dating now, quite smitten it looks like to me. They’re worried the two are having sex.” 

“And that doesn’t bother you?” 

“Not my business, really.” 

“But isn’t it…?” he trailed off, hoping Aziraphale would get the hint. He didn’t seem to so he continued. “...a sin?” 

Aziraphale shrugged. “Perhaps it is but one can sin is so many ways. No one is free of sin, my dear boy, not really. I hardly believe God would be too angry over a sin of love. Forgiveness and love are what God is about.” 

Crowley wasn’t sure he agreed but nodded anyway. He looked around the room, and wanting to change the subject, asked, “What else needs to get done?” 

“Tables and chairs need to go back into that storeroom, then just to sweep and mop the floor. My volunteers this week were amazing already did most of the cleanup before leaving. I’m going to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” 

He hadn’t taken a break all day but had consumed a number of teas to keep himself going. When he returned from the bathroom, he found Crowley cleaning the floor of the storage room. “It was filthy in there.” 

Aziraphale nodded. “You should have seen the state of these tables when I cleaned them this morning!” 

Together the two cleaned and broke down each table, then the chairs. Aziraphale swept and Crowley mopped silently after one another. When they were done, it was nearing seven. The blond handed him a takeout container. “Thank you for your help.” 

Confused, and a little speechless, the redhead took the food. He reached behind him and handed the glasses back to the older man. “Thanks.” He said finally and hoped he didn’t need to say more. Aziraphale seemed to understand this time. 

“See you next week?”

Crowley nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, think so.” 

Aziraphale smiled and Crowley felt it in his stomach. “See you then.” 

Crowley nodded again and the pair headed off in opposite directions to go home. Crowley had barely eaten in the last week and a half, though he rarely ate as it was. The food was still warm when he got home and he happily ate it all before laying back down and falling asleep again. 

The sun hadn’t even set yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally made a decision regarding their ages. My original idea for this was to have them still be in high school but I quickly decided they needed to be a bit older. Crowley is 20 and Aziraphale is 21 currently. 
> 
> This chapter came out longer than I expected! I hope you liked it, please let me know what you think! Your comments and kudos are so heartwarming! I really need to focus on my paper now, about halfway done so I don't expect an update until at least Wednesday. As always, all mistakes are mine.


	5. The Doomsday Option

Crowley spent the week in one of his infamous slumps. He’d always been this way, as long as he could remember, that is. Crowley loved to sleep. It had always been an escape from everything going on in his life. He often took long naps and slept right through the day if his schedule allowed. Sometimes he just couldn’t keep his eyes open, no matter what he did. 

He figured it could have been worse. Ligur couldn’t stop fucking whomever gave him a second glance while Hastur drank obscene amounts of alcohol and refused to bath. Bee almost seemed normal minus the way they reacted to any form of intimacy. The fact that Crowley slept entirely too much and never felt quite rested was something he considered a blessing compared to the others.

He knew he should see a doctor about it but could never gather the energy to seek out help. No one had bothered to get him help when he was too young to do so himself. Just scream and hit, angry that he fell asleep again in school, or was still asleep at four in the afternoon on a Sunday. It was hard to start taking care of yourself when taught not to bother. It would come and go in phases anyway, sometimes lasting a month or just a couple of days. It hit him now full force. 

The sun woke him up again. Crowley could tell it was still pretty early because of the color of the sky but he wasn’t sure what day it was. He’d fallen asleep at some point on Thursday around dinner time and only gotten up twice to piss. A quick check of his phone revealed it was just after 6am on Saturday. 

His stomach growled at him angrily. It had been two full days since he’d eaten anything and he’d not eaten a proper meal since the church dinner Aziraphale had given him. He listened for any other movement in the apartment, and hearing none, pulled himself from his bed and headed out into the common areas. 

The living room was a complete disaster again. The couch was covered in trash and molding food, leaving no place to sit and a thick smell that made him gag. He checked both the fridge and cupboard but found both bare. They didn’t even have anything to make coffee. Scowling, he checked his pockets to see how much money he had left. Keeping it on him at all times was the only way he could keep it safe. Ligur and Hastur were not above taking it when he slept. 

He was low, and with Bee keeping him on ice for the time being, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. He couldn’t rely on his roommates. For one, they were terribly irresponsible with money and rarely had any to loan. For another, they wouldn’t actually care to do him any favors. He could ask Bee, but that would mean owning them a favor and Crowley could never bring that situation on himself. He’d have to figure something out. 

His stomach still growling at him, Crowley took a quick shower and styled his hair before rushing out the door. He didn’t want to risk the others coming back while he was there. It’d be easier just to skip doing his hair but he’d always liked playing with it, even as a child. He didn’t have his first haircut until he was six. By then it had grown out long enough to braid. Now his hair was short, long enough to pull at and style as he wished. Sometimes he thought about growing it out again, but the color was hard enough to maintain as it was. 

He went to another hole in the wall dinner, different from the one before. He didn’t want to risk running into Hastur trying to get into that waitress’s pants. He could see St. Francis’ from where he sat. The main entrance of the church was just down the street, slightly hidden by cars and people walking by. The basement entrance was around the back, which had led to the dinners. He almost missed it before, if not for seeing a small group of people leaving with takeout containers and filled bellies. 

Once he finished his meal and fourth cup of coffee, he paid his bill and stepped out onto the street. Soho was a nice place to live, though expensive. The area was filled with culture and nightlife that got the attention of locals and tourists alike. There were several large churches in the area as well. Crowley had seen them plenty of times. He always wondered how they could be as grand as they were. St. Francis’ on the other hand was by no means small, but much smaller than the others. It looked older than the others as well. It was really no wonder he’d never noticed it before. 

For some unknown reason, maybe simply because he was thinking about it, he started to walk towards the church. It wasn’t even eight yet, so he doubted anyone was there. He wasn’t truly certain he was going to go today. He just wasn’t sure he could. It had been a long time since he and God were on good terms. He wasn’t even certain he had any faith left to give. 

“Crowley?” 

He had stopped right outside the main entrance and was admiring the old architecture of the building when he heard his name. He turned and found Aziraphale staring at him, smiling. “Hello, Aziraphale,” he said casually, smiling back. There was something about this man that he couldn’t name. Something warm that made him want to at least be kind to him. 

“I didn’t expect you so early,” the blond said, pushing the backpack on his shoulders up a bit. “Nonetheless I am very happy to see you. Do you want to come in? I have some stuff to prepare and the others should be here soon to start the prep for tonight.” 

Just then, Crowley’s phone went off. He was used to answering it immediately, as Bee did not like to be kept waiting. Of course, it was a text from them:  **Get back now. Need your keys.**

It was code. Crowley was the best getaway driver Bee had in all the people they worked with. He knew this despite not knowing most of the other’s because he was forced to train several people a year. Bee refused to work with any other driver if Crowley didn’t give the okay after training them and not many people were given the honor. They were mostly fine but Bee had standards. It was better to say no and stick them with the lower jobs than have Bee kill them when they fucked up one of their jobs with them. 

Crowley looked up from his phone to see Aziraphale looking at him hopefully. He shoved the phone back into his pocket without opening the message. “Yeah, sounds good.” 

Aziraphale smiled and started to talk about the dinners as they walked to the back and let themselves in. “...and I’m really happy that you could be here. Honestly I could use another pair of adult hands. My volunteers are wonderful, truly, but they are either elderly and need to rest, or minors who need to be watched after. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all very responsible. I’m more worried something may happen to them than anything. The Them, especially.” 

Crowley raised an eyebrow, “The Them?” 

Aziraphale looked confused for a moment, then laughed. “Oh, yes, sorry. The Them, as in Adam, Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale. They like to be called The Them. Adam is the leader. He wanted to volunteer so the others did as well. His father brings him. Not a completely incompetent volunteer himself but you can tell he’s only here because of the kids.” 

Crowley nodded his head in understanding. He pointed towards the storage closet in the corner and Aziraphale nodded his head. Without another word, the taller of the two made his way over and started to set up the tables while Aziraphale disappeared into the kitchen. He tried to remember exactly where they had been and figured he did alright when the other man came back out and gave a thumbs up. 

Aziraphale sorted through what seemed to be boxes and boxes of fruits and vegetables, setting them aside in three piles while Crowley went about setting up the chairs. His phone vibrated in his pocket but he ignored it. The door opened as he was finishing. Crowley looked up when the people came into view and decided that they must be the two Aziraphale had told him about the week before. 

“Hi,” the girl called out to him, tone curious. The boy with her waved with a smile. 

“Hi,” he said back, a little awkward. He waved but felt like an idiot afterward. 

“Anathema, Newt,” Aziraphale said happily, coming to hug them both. “This is Crowley, my friend. Crowley, my dear, this is Anathema and Newton. I mentioned them to you last week.” There was a little smile playing on his lips and Crowley wasn’t sure what distracted him more. The sexy lip quirk or the fact that he’d called him ‘my dear’. 

“Nice to meet you,” Newt said, welcoming. Crowley remembered how the blond had told his grandmother how compassionate he was the week before. He agreed. Anathema was staring him down, looking him over as if trying to figure him out. In the end she simply smiled and moved into the kitchen, the boy hot on her heels. 

“They’re going to be doing takeouts again as they did such a good job. One of The Them will help, too, I think. If it’s okay with you, you’ll serve food to the dining room. We’ll take orders as we go and then bring the plates back.” 

“That’s fine.” He walked back over the Aziraphale, getting another smile from Newt as he and Anathema walked past them for the bathrooms, cleaning supplies in hand. “What is all this for?” He motioned to the piles on the table.

“Oh, well, this week we’re doing hot beef and crazy on buns. Agnes is going to be making a huge salad with these to pair with it. I’m planning on having someone cut up these fruits as well to serve.” As he spoke, he started to put the third pile back into boxes. “This pile, well, I’m not sure to be honest. They’re extra. We have more than enough here and I’m worried these will go bad before the next dinner. I’d hate to waste them. Same with a bunch of bread and deserts inside.” 

Upon walking into the kitchen, Crowley say more bread and pastry desserts in boxes than any one person would need for two years. “We just keep getting more donations, you see. I thought at first we’d use the desserts here and we are sending out a dessert tray this week now that we know what to expect but we’re using the nicer desserts.” 

Crowley looked back out into the dining room area, then at Aziraphale. “Do you think you could spare a table?” 

“Pardon?” 

“That corner there, the storage room. If you can spare a table, why not put one there and display the extra? The people can go up and take some of the stuff with them in plastic bags. Won’t go to waste and you’ll be helping feeding the people throughout the week.” 

Aziraphale’s face fell a moment as he thought it over. Crowley thought maybe he overstepped or said something completely stupid when suddenly the blond’s face broke out into the biggest smile. “Crowley, that’s a great idea! I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.” 

“Not everyone can have the big ideas,” he teased, finding himself smirking at the man. 

Aziraphale smiled back, “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” 

The other volunteers started to pile in. They each stopped to meet him, shake his hand and welcome him to the church. Crowley’s time in churches was limited at best but he couldn’t help but feel like it was all a bit surreal. He’d been to church before, been forced to volunteer before on a smaller scale. No one had ever been this friendly to him. 

“Alright,” Aziraphale clapped his hands happily when everyone was gathered. There was a small group of young ones in the corner. Crowley assumed they were The Them. “Everyone, Crowley just had this absolutely wonderful idea of setting up a station in the corner for all our leftover produce and bread for our guests to take home so they do not go to waste. I’m going to need some strong volunteers to man the station.” 

Crowley gave an awkward little wave when everyone turned to him. Miss Pearl, who’d eyed him just the week before, was smiling at him now. 

“I can do it,” Pepper raised her hand. “Brian can help me, and Mr. Young, right?” The two in question nodded. 

“Sounds lovely, thank you Pepper.” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley could tell he was fond of The Them and he seemed on good terms with the teens. The elderly seemed to adore him as well. “Agnes is going to be preparing the salad and ah, Anathema! Can you please take care of the fruits to serve?” 

She nodded and handed Newton a broom. The young man nodded to Aziraphale and headed out of the kitchen, presumably to continue cleaning on his own. 

“Anathema and Newt will take care of takeouts again with Adam taking orders. Wensleydale, up to helping them pack?” 

“Actually, I was born ready, sir.” 

“Good. Crowley and I will be serving the dining room and everyone else knows what we’re cooking, right?” More nods and murmurs of agreement. 

“Alright, let's get to work,” Agnes cut in, winking to Aziraphale. “We only have a couple of hours to prepare. I got through the final numbers from last week. Over two hundred people came in to eat and including takeouts, we served over five hundred plates. We should expect the same if not more.” 

Happily, the group got to work. Crowley helped Aziraphale move one of the tables to the corner by the storage room while Pepper lead her team in getting the extra products and setting them up. Adam found an old poster board and markers and made a little sign for the stand. It looked like a little farmer’s market by the end. 

Crowley then found himself in the kitchen wearing gloves and a hairnet. Miss Pearl taught him how to make her famous homemade gravy and Mr. Morrison taught him how to season the meat “so perfectly even God would worship it”. He helped place all the food on the table when people started to pile in and then helped Aziraphale make sweet tea and coffee to put out. His phone had vibrated more times than he could keep count of. He was sure by now Bee was furious. He didn’t bother to check it or turn it off. They were calling him and if it suddenly started going straight to voicemail, they would know for certain he was ignoring them. 

At the beginning of the service, Sandalphon came into the room and walked up to the stage placed in the middle of the wall opposite the entrance to the kitchen. He looked out over the group that had gathered there and smiled. “Let us join hands and say grace.” 

Crowley thought he might sneak away, if just for the moment when he felt someone tap his arm. When he looked, he saw it was Aziraphale. Despite the two being the only ones by the drink station, he was still surprised. The other man was holding out his hand for Crowley to take. It had been years since he’d prayed and he wasn’t keen on starting again but he took the offered hand. Aziraphale, like everyone else, bowed their heads. Crowley did not but closed his eyes when the pastor began to speak. 

“We would like to take a moment to thank you Lord for this food, for this company, and for this hope. We take great peace in your Great Plan. We pray for those here at our table and those around the world who are in need of your guidance and light. For this food and joy renewed, we praise your name, O Lord. Please enjoy.” 

It was suddenly as if time started again. He washed his hands, put on more gloves and followed Aziraphale’s lead in serving the food. Not everyone was pleasant to deal with, in fact many of them acted like they were at the Ritz. They demanded the best, wanted more, and didn’t bother to look at him for more than a second. He ignored their attitudes and did what he was told, mumbling under his breath as he served them. These were the type of people he was used to. 

There were others who were trying their best to hide their tears. They ate full meals with more at their feet to help get them through the week. They stood when Aziraphale got close enough and took his gloved hands in theirs, thanked him, hugged him, and then sat back down. Every time, Aziraphale would happily speak with them and then discard his gloves to put on a clean pair that he was hoarding in his apron. 

He looked around the room at the volunteers, at the food running low and being replaced with the next serving, with the people coming in and out. Finally he looked back at Aziraphale who he swore had not stopped since the two came in together that morning. When he did, he saw him in a new light. He’d known, since their strange first meeting, that Aziraphale was kind. Crowley believed, above all else, that kindness was a choice. Aziraphale chose to be kind but looking at him now, Crowley realized that with him, it was more than that. Aziraphale was truly  _ good _ . 

His phone vibrated again. He placed his hand over his jean pocket but didn’t look at it. Instead he rushed to get back to work. A small group had come in and sat in Aziraphale’s section. He wanted to get to them before the blond could so maybe he would sit down instead. He didn’t at first and instead walked around and checked in on all the volunteers to see if anyone needed help. He even asked Crowley who all but shooed him away before he finally,  _ finally _ sat down. 

…

“I want to thank you again for coming,” Aziraphale was saying as they were finishing cleaning up the tables and chairs. Another successful night left the two the only ones left in the church. “You were a big help, dear, and that farmer’s market stand was genius.” 

Crowley decided not to say his first thought, which was that he needed to be there if he didn’t want to go to prison. He didn’t want to go to jail of course, but he couldn’t lie and say it was the only reason he was there. “My pleasure.” 

Aziraphale smiled, obviously tired. He yawned and sat down at the last table. “I have an assignment due first thing Monday and no time to do it tomorrow. I’m just going to do it here. I’ll finish cleaning when I’m done.” 

The redhead looked behind him at the food left out for them. He made Aziraphale a plate and set it down in front of him with a cup of hot tea. “You should eat something.” He didn’t mention that he knew he hadn’t eaten anything all day because that would imply things. 

“Thank you, will you please join me? I’d love the company if you have the time?” 

His phone vibrated in his pocket again. “Yeah, I have the time.” 

Crowley ate his food slowly, making sure to save more for later as he listened to Aziraphale talk about his assignment and the dinners as he typed furiously away at the computer.

“Do you think you’ll be back next week?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, honestly not even sure he’d be alive come next Saturday now that he’s spent all day ignoring Bee. “If I can.” The fact that Aziraphale looked a little disappointed did not go unnoticed. “I’ll do my best. Uh, is it okay if I get your phone number? I’ll let you know if anything changes.” 

Crowley took out his phone, ignored the number of missed calls from Bee, and quickly entered the number given. “I’ll text you.” 

“Okay, good. Oh,” Aziraphale’s eyes went wide as if suddenly remembering something. He dug into his bag and pulled out a folder. Inside there was nothing but a single slip of paper. “I was given this to keep track of your hours. It’s for you to keep, so no one can tell you you’re not doing them. I signed for this week and last already. Keep up the way you’re going and you’ll be done in no time.” 

Crowley hoped not. He’d have to come up with an actual reason to see Aziraphale if that was the case. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! All mistakes are mine, as always. As you may have noticed, each chapter has been titled corresponding with the episodes. I'm sure the next chapter will be the same but it was not be the end of the story. I still have no idea how long this will be. Thank you so much for all your encouraging words and kudos!


	6. The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives

When Crowley and Aziraphale finally parted ways, it was well past nine. Crowley, thankfully, did not live far. A couple of kilometers was nothing when he was avoiding going back to the flat and dealing with the others. He liked to walk anyway, especially at night. It gave him time to think and he could blast Queen or Velvet Underground and no one would know. 

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was not as lucky. He no longer lived at home, as his father believed he needed to be independent while finishing school. Gabriel and he had lived together very briefly but even with the older man’s frequent business trips, they had mutually agreed that it wasn’t working out and Aziraphale had moved out into his own flat. He’d gotten something a little out of the area because it was easier to afford on his budget. Aziraphale also didn’t drive. He could, had a license and everything, but preferred not to be in the driver’s seat. 

The bus stop was a block over from the church. With the blond looking as tired as he did, Crowley offered to walk him over. A blush had run over his cheeks but he’d shook his head no, stating he would be fine. When he began to walk away, Crowley had followed, shoving his hands in his pockets and bumping the other’s shoulder just once in what he hoped to put the slightly older man at ease if there were any misgivings. He really did just want to make sure he got to the bus stop okay. 

The bus was already approaching when they made it to the stop. Aziraphale turned to Crowley and smiled, pushing his backpack up on his shoulders a little nervously. “It was very kind of you to make sure I made it safely.” 

Crowley rubbed the back of his head. “No problem. I’ll text you?” 

Aziraphale nodded back just as the bus stopped in front of them. “Hopefully I’ll see you next week.” 

Crowley waved him off, then turned back in the direction they came. He finally checked the number of messages Bee had left him. He thought about calling them but decided against it.  **Was at community service, not allowed to have my phone. Headed back.**

He didn’t receive a response but he didn’t expect one. They would leave him waiting until the very last second before his punishment. He’d been in trouble with Bee before but never to this extent. It was easy when Hastur and Ligur were always mucking things up around him and getting on Bee’s nerves. He’d always done his job well in the past and he’d been good so Bee mostly left him alone. 

Three years. 

Three years since running away and leaving the system. It had been three years since he started working for Bee. He had no illusions of their working relationship. Bee was not the named leader of their group, not like Adam of The Them. Bee’s type of influence did not need to be addressed or named. He and the others knew what was expected. Bee was also their link to whatever organization they were in. That was where most of their jobs came from. The people Bee worked with wouldn’t bother with the rest of them if not for them. 

Crowley blasted Queen and tried not to think of Bee or anything else. He tried to clear his mind of everything but the music and the stars that managed to break through the city sky. There were still people busying about but besides moving out of his way as they passed, they paid him no mind. 

The lights were off when he made it back to the flat. He imaged Bee sitting in a large chair, waiting to turn around with a cat in their arms as soon as he turned the light on, and chuckled. His body felt weak, almost limp. He’d felt alert through the day, almost normal as he served the church’s guests. Now he felt he could barely keep his eyes open himself. He wondered if Aziraphale made it home okay. 

He opened the door widely, making sure his presence was known if there was anyone in the flat. He turned the light on cautiously and then checked his phone when he saw no sign of anyone being there. Still no response from Bee. They hadn’t even read the message. He walked in slowly, closed the door behind him, and made his way to his room. He opened that door slowly as well but there was no place to hide in the small space besides under the bed. He checked it just in case. 

“Bout time you showed up.” 

Crowley nearly jumped out of his skin as he jumped to his feet. Bee was standing in the doorway of his room, leaning on a baseball bat. The front door was ajar. Crowley hadn’t even heard it open. He raised his hands in defense. “Sorry, I was at the church doing some hours. Didn’t have my phone.” 

“Is that it in your pocket?” Bee knew very well it was. 

“I can’t have it on me during the service.” Hands still raised, he eyed the bat. Bee started walking slowly towards him, considering. “Judge is a friend of the pastor. Can’t afford to misbehave.” Bee all but twirled the bat around a couple of times, now grinning. “You know if they put me in jail I’ll be on ice longer than you want.” 

Bee looked up at him and nodded. He lowered his hands slowly, feeling stupid for having kept them up so long. Bee twirled the bat again and then brought the end of it into his stomach, hard. He wasn’t expecting it and fell back. The bat hit him again, this time in the chest. He tripped over something on the floor and ended up on his back, looking up at Bee. 

They stepped on his chest and put all their weight into it. Crowley tried to catch his breath but couldn’t get enough to satisfy his lungs. His sunglasses had fallen off his face, leaving him exposed as Bee leaned down, foot to his chest and bat pressing down painfully on his hand. “If you ever ignore my calls again, I’ll do much worse to your hand than this.” Bee stepped down harder on his chest before moving away from him. Crowley took a deep breath but lost it all when Bee stomped their foot down as hard as they could in their steel-toed boots onto his hand.

After, Bee dropped the bat so it landed pathetically on him and walked out, mumbling under their breath. Crowley heard the front door slam shut. He pushed the bat away and laid on the floor, holding his hand and trying to catch his breath. Eventually, he pulled himself off the ground and got into bed. He stared up at the ceiling, thought of Aziraphale one last time, and fell asleep. 

…

Ethical Decision Making and Business Culture was an extremely boring class to take on a Monday morning. Aziraphale didn’t even feel bad for having a hard time keeping his eyes open for most of the lesson. No amount of tea, no matter how much cream and sugar he added could keep him alert. 

He could not wait for this semester to be over. He shouldn’t have taken on the summer classes but his father had convinced him he needed to in order to catch up. All it was doing was taking everything out of Aziraphale he had and then some. He only had a couple of weeks left but then the fall semester would start. His father wasn’t aware yet but he’d only signed up for one class, an elective he thought he might enjoy taking. It would still probably be plenty of work, but maybe less stressful if he actually liked it. He was almost done anyway, just a couple more semesters and he’d have the shiny degree his father was so keen on him having. 

He had a couple of minutes before work started, so he stopped at the hot drink vending machine in the hallway and bought a hot chocolate. The liquid was entirely too hot for human consumption but he took a drink anyway, the not quite right chocolate mixture burning his tongue as it went down. He’d always taken comfort in things like hot chocolate and his books and felt like he needed comfort now. He wanted to read the current book he’d picked up but knew he wouldn’t have time until later. 

Raven greeted him with a small nod when he entered the campus bookstore. Aziraphale did his best to wave back but with his drink, backpack, and books he’d yet to put away, the motion he made didn’t resemble a wave in the slightest. Raven rolled his eyes. They’d never really gotten along before but they worked together constantly so they both made an effort to be civil. Well, Raven made an effort. Aziraphale had never had a problem being kind to anyone, not even someone he didn’t care for or didn’t care for him. 

He quickly put his stuff in his locker, changed his shirt to the hideous green t-shirt he was forced to wear while on shift and headed back out to clock in. The schedule said he was supposed to work the till with Raven stocking and helping customers but by the time he got to the register, Raven had already signed on. 

He had no problem with this. He much preferred to be helping the other students who came in and he knew Raven didn’t. It wasn’t like their manager cared. Aziraphale wasn’t sure she even really made the schedule or if she just put names wherever just to say she did it. No one followed it anyway. His phone buzzed in his pocket just as he was heading to the stockroom to get his supplies. Normally he would rush to put it in his locker. He didn’t believe in having it at work but today he checked to see who texted him. 

It was Anathema, asking about the food for the dinner on Saturday. She and Newton wanted to do a chicken dish. He had no issue with that but didn’t reply. It would have to wait until after work. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and got to work. 

He was only an hour into his shift when six boxes of supplies got delivered. Four of them were food that needed to be labeled and stocked either on the shelves or in their appropriate containers in the storeroom. Raven refused to help, citing he’d ordered the stuff and that was all he was doing. The other two boxes the manager had ordered, which were school supplies and directions to make a new display for them. 

The blond took care of the food first, then stocked the drink machine. He hated to do the displays. He didn’t have the flare for them. Who cared if the black binder went on the left or right of the floral binder? Why did anyone even care what color their binders were? His manager always had such a fuss when he did them but Raven had a line to check out now and Aziraphale had run out of excuses so he asked Raven if he needed any help and then dragged the boxes down to the corner for the display when shooed away.

His phone buzzed again. He looked around to make sure no one was watching and pulled his phone out. There was this feeling that seemed to sweep through him, one he couldn’t name but one he very much liked when he saw it was a number unknown to him. 

**Crowley:** Hey, it’s Crowley. 

**Aziraphale:** Hi! 

He sent the message quickly, then shoved the phone back in his pocket. He hoped that was alright. He didn’t have the time to think of or send a longer message but he didn’t want to let Crowley think he was ignoring him or didn’t wish to speak to him. Aziraphale was not a great texter as it was. He understood the concept and could do so fine but he didn’t much care for it. Especially emojis. Aziraphale didn’t see the point and some had these secret meanings he wasn’t too sure of. He was worried he’d send someone something he shouldn’t. 

No response came and Aziraphale tried not to be disappointed. At least now he had Crowley’s number, which he saved in his phone when he had the chance under his last name. That was probably the only reason why he texted him to begin with. 

He did his best to do the display exactly as the directions said but some of them were vague. The manager, Mary, and even Raven came by every so often and changed something. He didn’t think it looked much better but said nothing other than a polite“thank you” for their help. 

Raven worked the long shift with Aziraphale on the short due to class so when it came time, Aziraphale covered while the other man went on break. With nothing left to stock, Aziraphle pretended to be busy in between checking out customers. 

His phone buzzed again in his pocket. He ducked behind the counter, pretending to take inventory while he dug his phone out. It was Crowley again, bless him. Aziraphale felt his heartbeat a little faster in his chest. 

**Crowley:** I assume you made it home, okay? 

**Aziraphale:** Yes, thank you. Sunday was terrible, I slept far too late and almost missed the bus. I needed the library for my paper. Today has been horrible as well, class boring and work, well, it’s work. Do I really need to say more? 

He sent the message, then regretted it. He hoped he didn’t sound too whiny. He just didn’t want the conversation to end. 

**Aziraphale:** How was the rest of your weekend? 

**Crowley:** Same old. 

The conversation died then because Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to know more of the other’s man’s life but didn’t want to pry. He could tell Crowley that, he could ask, but goodness, texting seemed so impersonal. Especially when asking about a person’s life. As he was contemplating what to say, he got a line at the register and then had to help someone find a specific textbook. By the time he was finished, he felt like too much time had passed to reply. 

…

When Aziraphale woke on Thursday morning, he was met with the strange sensation that he had nothing to do. He hadn’t set an alarm the night before but he was so accustomed to waking up early that he did so automatically. 

Everything was set for the dinner on Saturday. He was all caught up on his schoolwork. He had done his laundry, helped his father with his sermon, and even texted Gabriel his obligatory reminder for the service Sunday-as if he forgot- as he was asked to by their father. 

He treated himself to a cup of tea and a muffin while he contemplated what he should do with his day off. He had wanted to stop by the bookshop and get a couple of things to add to his ever-growing collection. And he’d never actually gone to the antique shop the other week...Speaking of the antique shop, he took his phone and texted Crowley before convincing himself it wasn’t a good idea.

**Aziraphale:** Are you free today?

It took a couple of minutes to get a response but Aziraphale wasn’t surprised. It was barely eight. 

**Crowley:** Need help with something? 

Well, here went everything, he thought. 

**Aziraphale:** No. 

The response came immediately. 

**Crowley:** What did you have in mind? 

Two hours later, Aziraphale was standing on the corner of the street by the church. Crowley had promised to meet him there but had texted him to let him know he was running a little behind. He thought about running into the church for a moment to see his father but didn’t want to risk being tasked with something. His father hated idle hands. 

Soon enough, Aziraphale could see Crowley coming down the sidewalk, hands shoved in his pocket and headphones in his ears. He couldn’t be sure if the other man saw him or not due to the sunglasses ever-present on his face. There were times he couldn’t tell where the man was looking. 

Crowley seemed to be moving to the music but he almost always looked like that, even when there was none. He didn’t walk, really. Not even swagger. No, if Aziraphale had to describe it, he would say it was more of a saunter. He moved like he hadn’t a single care in the world and had no idea what to do with his limbs. Aziraphale, who was smacked on the back of the hand when having to be reminded to sit up straight, envied him a little for it. 

He was caught staring, Crowley’s lip turned up just slightly in a smirk when he came to a stop in front of him. He blushed and greeted Crowley with a smile. “Thank you for coming.”

Crowley rolled his eyes affectionately behind his glasses. Aziraphale always said thank you so genuinely. “Are you sure you didn’t ask me here to help with the dinner?” He teased, nodding towards the building. 

“No, I promise. Today I’m free,” the blond said, laughing, “I wanted to...get out, I guess. I have really been meaning to go to the bookstore. I have some on my list I have yet to buy.” 

Crowley stepped out onto the street first, waving his hand in thanks to the car that yielded as the two crossed and made their way to the bookstore. “I’ve never been to this bookshop. Actually, I don’t come down this way at all much.” 

Aziraphale shrugged, “I promise not to get you lost. Look, you can see the top of the church from everyone around here. Just follow it back.” 

“We’ll need another wise man,” Crowley mumbled, then asked, “Why do churches have such high ceilings?” 

“Better acoustics,” Aziraphale told him, smiling but completely serious. Crowley laughed, opening the door to the bookshop open for him when they reached their destination. Aziraphale nodded his thanks. “Did you currently have anything on your reading list?” 

Crowley decided not to mention that not only did he have nothing on his list at the moment but he’s never had anything close to resembling a reading list to begin with. He just shrugged, fingered the book closest to him to get a better look at the title before putting it back and following the blond around the shop. 

He knew where the books were he wanted but he took his time in getting them. He loved the smell of books. He felt comfortable and at ease there. Mr. Terry, the older gentlemen who owned the shop, was a kind man who encouraged all types of readers. He never cared how long someone lingered, even if they didn’t purchase anything. “So much universe,” he always said, “and so little time.” 

Aziraphale thumbed through several novels, tucking a few under his arm as he went. Crowley never went too far away but looked through the shelves for anything that may interest him. It wasn’t that Crowley didn’t like books. He read all the time when he was younger but time slips away when someone grows up. He wasn’t sure he could gain the motivation to sit down and read, never mind the fact that it could hurt his eyes at times. 

He did find a book on botany that looked rather interesting and another on photography he thought he might give a shot. They weren’t much compared to the books Azirphale was contemplating but at least he wouldn’t look stupid. “The Time Machine?” Aziraphale was holding it in his hands. It wasn’t that thick of a book, actually rather thin. A dedicated person could finish it in a night. Crowley was willing to bet Aziraphale was up for the challenge. 

“I’ve actually never read it, can you believe that?” 

“No,” the redhead nodded for even he had read it, once, though back when he was in school. “It’s pretty good. Ligur couldn’t follow it but,” he trailed off shrugging, unsure how to finish that sentence. He remembered tons of people from school being unable to follow it. 

“Oh, erm, and Ligur is…?” 

Crowley’s first thought was to say no, but no what? No, he wasn’t his friend. No, he certainly was not his boyfriend. But was that what Aziraphale was really asking, or simply making an inquiry into his life? Maybe both. Crowley took a book from Aziraphale’s hands when it looked like he may drop it. “He’s my brother.” He shrugged then. He hated the way that sounded. “Sorta.” 

Aziraphale was looking at him, not pushing, not expectedly, just looking at him. Giving him his undivided attention for whatever it was he wanted to say and whatever he didn’t. “I’m an orphan. Ligur and I were in a home together, once, when we were teens. Hastur, too but not for long. Not while I was there, anyway. He’s older. I came to live with them a couple of years ago.” 

Crowley expected pity. That’s what he normally got from people. People would find out, look him up and down and form whatever opinion or assumption they wanted. Some would even make comments, stating “well that explains it”. Usually his teachers. When Crowley managed to look back at Aziraphale, he didn’t see pity or the side-eye. He didn’t comment on it at all and in fact, looked like he was trying to figure something out. That’s when he seemed to notice Crowley’s hand. Bruised and still aching but thankfully not broken. Crowley cleared his throat to say something when an older man came out from the backroom. 

“Ah, so much universe, so little time,” the older gentleman said, sitting down at the desk in the front with a sandwich and a cup of tea. 

“Hello, Mr. Terry,” Aziraphale greeted, “This is my friend, Crowley. Crowley, this is Mr. Terry. He owns the shop, published author too.” 

The bookseller looked almost as if he was going to chide Aziraphale for bringing it up, but looked happy all the same. Instead, he eyed the books they carried and smiled. “Looking for a bit of light reading, are we?” 

“So much universe,” the blond said in acknowledgment, coming forward to bring his selections up for Mr. Terry to see. “Getting more than I thought.” 

Mr. Terry smiled, looking past Aziraphale to look at Crowley. “And you, young man, did you find something you liked?” 

Crowley came forward with his books. Mr. Terry told him the botany book was a good read and showed him he had a copy himself behind the counter. They talked for a couple more minutes while he rang them up and he smiled kindly at them as they left. 

After, Crowley decided he didn’t want the day to end. “Tempt you to a spot of lunch?” 

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. His hips did a little wiggle that Crowley couldn’t take his eyes off of if he tried. “Temptation accomplished.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So much universe and so little time." Terry Pratchett: 1948 - 2015
> 
> Thank you again for all the kudos and comments! They give me life to keep writing. I just need to turn in my research paper and I'm done with my class so I'll have more time to write for a bit. Not sure how long the story will be but I have the next two chapters planned out plus there will need to be more. It'll be 10 for sure, maybe more. I'm having a lot of fun writing this story. Please feel free to tell me what you think!


	7. Thank You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some homophobia

Crowley never thought he’d be so excited to go to a church. Aziraphale had texted him that morning and asked if he was coming and if so if he could come early. Crowley had not heard from Bee and had no reason not to go. Even if he did, he may not be able to stop himself. He’d only known the other man a short time but there was something in him that made Crowley smile whenever he thought of him. 

He stretched out his hand in the shower, testing out the movement and the pain. It wasn’t broken but it hurt like hell when Bee had done it. He still hurt a bit but only if he tried to do too much too quickly. Bee had gone easy on him. He didn’t wash up, just let the hot water burn into his skin. He hissed at the pressure of it on the bruises on his chest that had yet to heal but luckily they too weren’t anything too damning. 

He’d managed to avoid telling Aziraphale what happened, though he was certain it was only because the blond was purposely avoiding the subject as well. He could tell he wanted to ask but never actually pushed. Crowley may have told him, as he did about his home life if it had been anything else. 

He didn’t stay in long, just long enough to try and sooth out his muscles and wash the sleep from his eyes. The only clean towel in the entire place was the one he specifically kept and washed for himself. He wrapped it around his waist and quickly made it back to his room. The others weren’t there and probably wouldn’t be for some time but Crowley didn’t want to risk being caught with his pants down, literally. He didn’t take his clothes in the bathroom with him, not anymore anyway. He’d learned his lesson when Hastur came to use the toilet with him in the shower and tossed his clothes out the window because “they were in my way”. They had been folded on the counter next to the sink and the man hadn’t even bothered to wash his hands. 

As messy as the place always was, he’d think the others were around more considering they’re the ones who make the mess. The smell from the moldy food was probably permanently embedded into the couch at this point and Crowley was beginning to get used to the smell himself. He didn’t have time to clean it, so he grabbed his keys and ran out the door. The food was a problem for future Crowley now. 

He thought about taking the bus but figured he could make better time if he walked. The bus wasn’t due for another ten minutes anyway. He texted Aziraphale to let him know he was on his way but received no response. 

He barely had any contact with the others since the week before. He wasn't entirely certain that was a good thing. Hastur had come back to the flat late Monday and left again by the time Crowley woke up Wednesday mid-morning. He had told him there was a job Bee wanted him for but whomever they worked for wouldn't have it with him having been arrested just weeks before. It was some bank job that Crowley was happy to miss. Hastur said he never met the new guy but knew he had done some work for Bee before but nothing to this extent. He told him Bee wanted him trained by Crowley before the big day but that it had gotten pushed back due to some issues Bee did not tell him. 

Crowley had told him he would make himself available and Hastur had looked at his hand and smirked. Bee packed a lot of punch for someone so small and even still, had a whole army of people willing to kick the crap out of him for them. Including Hastur. 

“Crowley, my dear, oh thank goodness you’re here,” Aziraphale shouted out to him as soon as he opened the backdoor to the church and stepped in. “Look!” 

For a moment he had no idea what to say but the look on Aziraphale’s face was so priceless, he almost laughed. Stifling the sound, he called out, “For Pete’s sake, Aziraphale, what is going on?” 

The tables had all been set up but the chairs were still in storage. Across the tables there seemed to be hundreds of flowers scattered every which way. Upon closer inspection, Crowley found that they were mostly roses of different colors: red, salmon, and yellow with red tips. The rest were irises. Aziraphale stood in the middle, looking a bit panicked but also a bit amused. 

“This is your doing,” the blond said back, now chuckling. “Which is why I’m tasking you with this.” 

Crowley narrowed his eyes, unsure what he meant. He started walking closer. “Sorry, I didn’t buy you any flowers but I could if you wanted me to.” He teased, smiling at the blush covering Aziraphale’s cheeks. 

“That’s not what I meant,” the other said in response, which was not a no. “You mentioned we should do something with the stage, some entertainment for the guests.” 

“Hm,” Crowley rubbed his chin, pretending to think. He’d mentioned something when they had lunch on Thursday. Music, magic shows for the kids, someone dressed as Santa for Christmas. Aziraphale had instantly fallen in love with the idea and promised to work on it as soon as he got home. Crowley had almost felt bad for giving him more work but he’d looked so happy and happy with Crowley at that, that he couldn’t bring himself to be too upset about it. “I don’t recall this.”

“Oh, don’t you,” Aziraphale said, eyeing him with an amused glint. “Well, I can tell you, my dear, that it was completely your doing.” 

“Okay, maybe I’ll take responsibility for that but what do all these flowers have to do with entertainment?” 

Aziraphale started to shuffle through the flowers but gave up. He had no idea how to organize them least of all where to start. “I remembered that one of the sometimes members of our congregation, Mr. Shadwell, plays the piano beautifully. I called and asked if he would volunteer his time. His fiance thought it was a wonderful idea and he agreed.” 

“And the roses?” 

“His fiance, Madame Tracy, -”

At hearing her name, Crowley mouthed out the word “madame?”

“- owns a flower shop, a lovely place. Well apparently there was supposed to be a wedding today at Hope Church and the bride found the groom in bed with her mother this morning! Can you believe that?” 

Yes. Crowley could actually imagine it, but the look on Aziraphale’s face was even better than the last. He smiled, “You still haven’t explained all this.” 

“The wedding was canceled. Madame Tracy put in a large order for these and they’ll go to waste if not used soon. She’s donated them to the church so we can wrap them up and give them to the guests. I thought it would be lovely, along with the piano music.” 

“Oh,  _ you _ thought it would be lovely.”

The blush was back. “I was merely going off your idea.” 

“I like it,” he amended, holding up his hands. He liked to see him squirm but he didn’t want to make him feel bad. “I’m here to help. You want me to put them together?” 

“Yes! You and Madame Tracy are on bouquet arranging duty. She brought some vases with some supplies to make small arrangements to package up. I wasn’t expecting so many! Why does a couple need this many flowers?” Aziraphale sighed, his question obviously rhetorical. “I’m going to be helping Newt and Mr. Shadwell bring the piano from the back onto the stage. Madame Tracy should be back in a moment.” 

Left alone, Crowley turned to the roses in front of him. It appeared as if someone had tried to keep them mostly in order but they were everywhere. Crowley wouldn’t say he had an eye for these things, mostly because he didn’t think of himself as someone deserving of any praise, but he was creative when he wanted to be. He’d also seen flower arrangements before, who hadn’t? 

On the table, there were floral sleeves, ribbons, scissors, and the string and tape to keep them together. He wasn’t sure when Madame Tracy would be back so he decided to get to work. He gathered what he wanted, arranged it just so in the vase and then chose a ribbon and sleeve based on the colors he used. Eyeing the number of flowers they had, he estimated how big the arrangements should be to make sure they had enough for everyone. 

He was ten bouquets deep when the boys finally got the piano around the corner and into the dining room. They were arguing over the best way to do it and now Anathema was watching from the corner, looking as amused as he felt. When she spotted him, she gave him a little wave and came over to see what he was doing. 

“Wow,” she said, eyes widening, circling the arrangement he was just about to finish. “This is really pretty, Crowley.” 

“I’ll say,” a feminine voice sounded from behind them. An orange-haired older woman was inspecting the finished products, picking each one up and carefully looking it over. “Did you do all these?” 

Crowley nodded. He hoped they were okay. 

“Oh, they’re lovely. Shadwell, look!” 

The boys stopped arguing to look at the arrangement she held in her hand, then turned to Crowley. The redhead blushed, ducking his head. 

“You know…” she started, eyeing the flowers one more time before meeting his eye. “I need some help around the shop. Shadwell is allergic to the flowers.” She said it in such a way that Crowley was to believe that he wasn’t but she allowed him to lie. “Are you currently looking for work?” 

Crowley could do nothing but nod dumbly at her. He hadn’t actually started to actively look for it but he knew he needed to. It had become increasingly apparent when he’d paid for lunch on Thursday that if he didn’t do something soon, he’d be without for some time. And he needed to pay his portion of the rent soon. 

“Ever taken care of a plant before?” 

Crowley nodded. “I have plants at home.” This was not actually true. He had plants at home but Ligur accidentally destroyed them when he got drunk one night. Still, Crowley had owned plants when he was in high school and had actually won awards for them. 

“You start Monday,” she said, smiling at him. She turned, starting on her own arrangements. 

Instinctively, he looked up at Aziraphale who was already looking at him. They’d somehow managed to get the piano on the stage. By the look of it, it appeared as if Anathema had taken charge. Crowley smiled before turning his attention back to the flowers. 

“Your boyfriend seems nice.” 

Aziraphale jumped and turned towards Shadwell, who was looking at Crowley with some interest. This was strange because Shadwell had once called Aziraphale “a southern pansy” and the blond had never been sure if he meant it as an insult, or was just too ignorant to know it came off that way. This had been before Madame Tracy had come into his life. Aziraphale realized then he hadn’t responded but before he could, Shadwell had already stepped off the stage and was walking to his bride to be. 

Aziraphale found himself looking at Crowley again before shaking himself out of his daze and going to the kitchen. They had much to prepare.

…

The church was crowded with people by the time Gabriel made it there. He hadn’t wanted to come but his father had called him specifically to request his presence. He hated St. Francis’s. He didn’t hate God, nor his religion. It was a large part of his life, always had been. He believed in and lived by the teachings of the Lord as taught to him by his father when he was growing up. He just didn’t like his father’s current station. Before, his father had been positioned in a larger church in the wealthy part of Mayfair. The building itself looked beautiful: large, stark white, and clean. The congregation there had been twice the numbers they were currently and everyone respected them. 

Gabriel had found he cared about that a lot. When his father had been moved to the small church in Soho after the last pastor’s retirement, he had been a teenager. The community there didn’t respect them, not like the others had and it bothered him. He wished his father had never been transferred or was more like his brother Remiel who decided to travel to teach the word of God now that Michael was old enough to be on her own. Instead, he was stuck with an old building and more lost souls than they could keep track of. 

It was the final decision that had him choosing to go to college instead of seminary school. He didn’t want his life to be controlled by someone else capable of uprooting his life with a single phone call. Sometimes, Gabriel would attend service in a large church in the heart of London where he worked. They knew who he was there but didn’t question why he attended service there instead of with his father. He always assumed they understood how he felt. 

Maybe someone needed to. Aziraphale certainly didn’t. He seemed to enjoy the little existence, take peace in it. No matter. He didn’t care much what his little brother did unless it directly affected him. That was why he hated the dinners. He was expected to be there. To show support and to help. There was no way he was wearing a hairnet! 

Aziraphale was running around like a lunatic, as always. As calm and collected as the young one was, he sometimes got frazzled when stressed and moving too quickly. Mr. Shadwell, a man he barely knew, was playing the piano. And oh, there were flowers! How ridiculous. 

He once again stood with his father to greet people at the door. He had to admit, Aziraphale and his team worked well together. They were fast and efficient. They got people seated and fed and out the door without appearing to rush them out. A lot of the people there looked happy. 

Gabriel noticed that Aziraphale’s friend was back. He hadn’t realized Aziraphale had any friends, to be honest. He was helping Madame Tracy in the back of the room and by the looks of it, they were making flower crowns for the kids. He really wanted to ask why he was wearing his sunglasses indoors. 

Aziraphale caught a moment to breathe then and looked towards Gabriel and their father. For a moment he thought he may approach them, but then he turned towards Crowley and made his way over there. 

“I had no idea you’d be this good when I asked you to do this, Crowley, honestly.” 

Crowley smirked, “Madame Tracy had to teach me to make these crowns but they’re pretty easy. Did everyone get some flowers?” 

“Oh, yes dear boy, and so beautiful. Many asked me to thank you and Madame Tracy on a job well done. I think you made everyone feel a little bit special tonight.” 

“It was really your idea,” the redhead mumbled, lowering his head. He couldn’t stand being praised. He just didn’t deserve it.

Aziraphale hummed. “I don’t know. Seems everywhere I look I see something you did for them.” 

It was true. A recipe he suggested, the flowers he made, the crowns the children were running around it. A dark-skinned boy running around with red roses in his hair telling everyone he felt pretty because Crowley had told him flowers were for everyone, not just people like his sister. The farmer’s market stand, the piano, and the little old woman in the corner who seemed to adore Crowley. He’d served her his first full day and she’d asked about him several times to Aziraphale during service the next, quite taken with him as it was. Even Agnes and Miss Pearl beamed at him. 

Aziraphale looked back at Crowley. An apology made its way to the tip of his tongue but he didn’t say it. Crowley’s face was red. His head lowered again. He placed his hand on his shoulder, hoping it wasn’t out of place. “I like having you around.” 

Crowley finished the crown in his hands. No more children were lined up for any and Madame Tracy had a few set aside just in case. Gathering his courage, he stood from his spot and placed the crown on Aziraphale’s head. Blue eyes lit up as white-blond curls danced around all three colors of the roses. “I like being there.” 

“ _ Oh _ ,” Aziraphale gasped out, though it was more breath than sound. “Well, I am very pleased to hear that.” 

Crowley didn’t think he could take his eyes off the man in front of him but something pulled his attention just behind him. He felt they like they were being watched. When he looked, he saw that Gabriel was staring at the two of them. He didn’t look very pleased. “What’s wrong with him?” 

Aziraphale turned to look but his attention was quickly drawn to Anathema, who appeared to be quietly arguing with Richard, one of the guests. With no more than an “excuse me” Aziraphale rushed over to the nearby table and got between them. Anathema took several steps back, looking relieved. 

“Is something the matter?” 

Richard rolled his eyes. He was standing but leaning over the table at them. Crowley could tell from there that he was drunk but remembered seeing him briefly when he came in. He must have been drinking at the table without anyone noticing because he hadn’t looked half as bad as before. “Tell your little whore to leave me alone.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “I can assure you, Mr. Keith, that Anathema does not belong to me or anyone else. Furthermore, she is a lady. A human being that deserves respect. That kind of language, that kind of treatment is not tolerated here.” Aziraphale kept his hands behind his back, his voice perfectly even but strong. “Now I can see that you are drunk. If you wish to continue to be allowed here you will need to change your attitude and do whatever it is Anathema asked of you or else I will be forced to ask you to leave.” 

“He told me a dirty joke,” the woman sitting next to Richard told him. She obviously did not appreciate it. 

“Yes, well, those are also prohibited here at the church. Now please, settle down and finish your meal.” 

Richard moved around the table quickly and reached for Aziraphale. Before he could even react, quick as a flash, the blond found Crowley in front of him. He grabbed Richard by the back of his neck and held him there. Shocked, Aziraphale didn’t step back and stayed pressed right up against Crowley’s back. 

“You’ll both burn in Hell for what you are!” 

Without hesitation, Crowley ushered Richard around the table and to the door. The older man struggled but he was drunk and Crowley was strong and angry. He easily got him to the door. Gabriel raised his hands, eyeing the scene as they neared. It was Sandalphon who opened the door and allowed Crowley to shove him out. Aziraphale walked out the door behind Crowley and Gabriel closed it. 

Aziraphale quickly waved a taxi over as Richard tried to force his way back into the church. Luckily Richard was well known and Aziraphale knew exactly where the man lived. He paid the driver ahead of time and gave him the address. Richard was beginning to sway on his feet and Aziraphale was forced to help Crowley wrestle him into the car. Just as they got him in, Richard threw his arm back and elbowed Aziraphale in the face. He stumbled back out of the way and Crowley managed to get Richard buckled in. As soon as he was, he gave no further fight. Crowley took the plastic bag of food and flowers that Aziraphale had been kind enough to grab and tossed it into the taxi before slamming the door shut. The cab was out of sight in a matter of seconds. 

Crowley turned around to find Aziraphale wiping tears from his eye. Crowley stepped forward, hand raised with his name on his lips but stopped short. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, quite alright, dear.” He lowered his hand and took a step forward so they were right up against each other. “Just stung. It’s only watering up.” Then, “It was very kind of you to come to my rescue. Can I say thank you this time?” 

Feeling brave and somehow _ wanted _ , Crowley lifted his hand to cup Azirahale’s cheek. He wiped the moisture that remained there away with his thumb. Aziraphale brought his hand up to gently grab at Crowley’s other arm, keeping him close. The redhead wasn’t sure if he leaned down or if Aziraphale had leaned up. Maybe they met in the middle. All he would ever remember was the feel of his lips against his. 

The kiss was soft and hesitant at first but Aziraphale pressed up and deepened the kiss. Crowley remembered, somewhere in his fog hazed mind, that he was kissing the pastor’s son and not the actual pastor. He tilted his head and pressed back gently until Aziraphale got the hint and backed up until they were pressed up against the wall of the church where no one could see them. 

Aziraphale’s other hand found its way into his red hair, pulling tenderly as his fingers tangled in the locks. Crowley kept one hand on Aziraphale’s cheek and the other curled around his hip. He pressed every inch of himself to the blond as he could as he licked inside his mouth and drew out little moans of pleasure that he made. 

Crowley swallowed each one, a contented hum developing in the back of his throat as Aziraphale’s tongue met his again and again. He wanted to consume him completely. It was still daylight out with people walking in and out of the church but behind the nook there, Aziraphale felt like he and Crowley were the only ones left in the world. When Crowley bit down on his lip, he nearly melted. 

Aziraphale wasn’t sure how long they stayed there but when the need for air became too much for him, he pulled back and rested his forehead against Crowley’s. They panted into each other, grinning. He brought both hands to cup the taller man’s face. “My dear, I-” He kissed him again, unsure of the words that would explain exactly what he felt in that moment. Crowley was more than happy to kiss him back, the hand on his face coming down to press suggestively at his lower back but no further. Aziraphale gasped into his mouth. 

A cough from behind them brought them back. Aziraphale pulled away reluctantly, peering behind Crowley’s shoulder to find his brother. Crowley rested his forehead against the blond’s shoulder for a second while he gathered himself before unwillingly letting him go and turning to face the older man. 

Gabriel was staring at them with his hands shoved in his pockets, his lip stiff. He had the same look in his eye Crowley had noticed before. “Father wanted me to check on you.” 

“We’ll be right in.” 

He eyed Crowley up and down, barely held back a sneer. “I think it’s best if you come in now.” 

The younger sighed in irritation. “We’ll be back in just a second, Gabriel. Thank you.” 

Huffing, Gabriel turned around and went back inside. They couldn’t see from the spot they were in but they heard the door open and slam shut. 

“I deeply apologize for him. He’s dreadfully...old fashioned.”

Crowley almost found that amusing. Gabriel looked like a modern man. It was Aziraphale who, at a glance, looked old fashioned. Crowley played with the tip of Aziraphale’s tartan designed bow tie. “That’s a very nice way of saying homophobic.” 

The blond eyed his slim fingers and blushed. “Well, yes.” A moment of silence. “Will you join me back inside? We really should get back to our guests.”

Crowley nodded. When they went back in, both Gabriel and Sandalphon were staring at them. Aziraphale didn’t seem to take any notice so Crowley pretended not to care. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek! So, now I feel like we're really getting into the story now. As always, your comments and kudos give me life. I am so inspired by you guys. I truly hope you're enjoying this story as much as I am. I have honestly never written a story as fast as I have written this one, knock on wood. I love these boys so much. 
> 
> I decided to name this chapter 'Thank You' because we all know how our boys were in the show about those two words and before Crowley told him not to say it and here, Aziraphale teases him a bit about it. 
> 
> As always, all mistakes are mine. Please feel free to tell me what you think.


	8. THE Southern Pansy

By Monday mid-morning, Crowley had made an order of fifty flower crowns for a little girl’s birthday party, repotted three plants, and threw out a stray cat that somehow managed to get into the flower shop all while standing at the counter and taking phone calls. Madame Tracy had spent the morning getting a couple of bouquets ready for the orders she’d received the week before. She wasn’t the only shop in the area, there was actually a large chain florist the next block over but Madame Tracy did well for herself. Many people enjoyed the personal touch her shop gave. 

Crowley learned this through all the phone calls he took over the course of the morning. Orders poured in for birthdays, anniversaries, and other celebrations. Several of the people asked where Madame Tracy was, who he was, and what he was doing there. He answered their questions, took their orders, and even made idle chit chat with a couple of them when appropriate. 

He forgot how much he enjoyed taking care of plants. He missed how it felt to be needed, to care for something with his hands. He’d gotten into plants on accident as a teenager. A younger foster sibling had been tasked with taking care of plants for their classroom at home but found they were absolutely rubbish. Crowley had taken pity on them and helped and found he rather liked it. 

He murmured to them quietly now, telling them to shape up or he’d throw them down the waste disposal. Madame Tracy didn’t have one in the shop but the plants would never know that. He didn’t tolerate spots and he expected them to be the most beautiful around and especially more beautiful than the chain stores. He knew it was a strange technique but had always worked very well for him in the past.

He had lunch with Madame Tracy and Shadwell, the later bringing by sandwiches and fruit salad to share. They told him how they met and how they fell in love. Crowley found it all a bit creepy if he was being honest but would never actually say to them. A woman of her age taking out personal ads in the paper didn’t sit well with him but he tried his best not to judge. He probably would feel differently about it as he got older but there were creeps out there in the world and the mere thought of someone taking advantage made his skin crawl. At the very least, it explained her name. Shadwell blushed when Madame Tracy told him how he had come to the wrong flat for the wrong ad. He’d been looking for someone selling a couch and instead ended up face-first into Madame Tracy’s. 

Crowley barked out a laugh at that. Still creepy, but he could tell they truly loved each other. After lunch, the two left him alone while they went into her office for more tea and going over the numbers in the books. They were planning to elope when the time seemed right but wanted a huge honeymoon, to Verona or perhaps Spain. They seemed to love talking about it more than anything else. Crowley hoped the trip met their expectations. 

While alone, he watered the plants, swept the floor, and washed the window to the front shop. Three people came in and were almost put off by him being there. He supposed he didn’t look like someone who would work in a flower shop but he did his best to be helpful and find something they all liked. 

Tuesday was much the same. 

It was three hours into his shift on Wednesday when the door opened for what felt like the umpteenth time, the bell chiming cheerfully from just above it. Crowley stood from where he was seated on the floor, feeling his legs ache from having sat in one position for too long. He was making some arrangements for the window and found he preferred to work on the floor. Madame Tracy was next door at the hair salon-her hair was apparently naturally blonde-and she had left Crowley to take care of things. Rather trusting, really. It made him feel good. 

He was surprised but not unhappy to see that it was Aziraphale. The blond was standing at the doorway, looking a little shy with a grocery bag at his side. They hadn’t had a chance to talk after the dinner, thanks to Gabriel and his massive prejudice. They’d texted a couple of times but both were busy and didn’t want to bother the other. 

“I asked Madame Tracy if it would be alright if we had lunch together,” the other explained, holding up the bag. “I hope that’s okay.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said back, nervously, checking the time. It was almost time to close the shop for lunch anyway, so he moved to lock the door. He hesitated for just a moment before pressing his lips gently against the shorter man’s cheek. He pressed his hand into Aziraphale’s lower back and directed him gently to the back room where they could eat. He set about making tea before coming to sit next to the blond. Crowley noticed immediately that the food was in at home take away containers. “Did you make this?”

The blond hummed. “Yes. I wanted to try it for the church dinners this week but wanted your opinion on it. It’s a southwestern salad. I made the dressing as well. It was actually the hardest part and to be honest, didn’t take much time at all.” 

Crowley took a bowl appreciatively and felt his stomach growl at the mere sight. He took a large bite. He nodded enthusiastically, mouth too full to speak. 

Aziraphale laughed, “Do you like it?” 

Crowley nodded his head more, swallowing. “Very much.” Then, because he couldn’t stand the silence that followed, “How has your week been so far?” 

Aziraphale seemed to jump a little at that as if not expecting the question. They had crossed boundaries and veered off in a completely different direction than they started. It was a little nerve-racking and absolutely thrilling. “Busy but done. I just finished my class for the semester. Work is about to get hectic, though, what with everyone coming to buy their supplies for the new semester.”

Crowley nodded in understanding, though he didn’t really understand at all. He’d never been on campus before and didn’t think he ever would. “What class are you taking again this time?” He remembered it but wanted Aziraphale to talk about it. “Poetry, right?” 

“Yes,” he replied, “I needed an elective and it was eligible. I love the arts, especially those constructed with words. Hopefully, I enjoy this class more than my last. Father will not be pleased I’m only taking one class but I’m already behind in my graduating class. I do not see further harm.” Crowley agreed. “Anyways, I don’t want to talk about that or me. I want to talk about you. About this.” He gestured around him, smiling. “Do you like it?”

“Actually, yes,” the redhead nodded. “It’s nice. I...I like plants.” Crowley instantly regretted the words. How lame could he be? 

“Good,” Aziraphale beamed even brighter than before and Crowley didn’t feel so stupid anymore. “I’m very happy for you. I do hope you can still come and help us on Saturdays.” 

There he went again. Acting like he had a choice in the matter. He grinned behind his salad and nodded. “I’ll be there.” 

Silence fell over them again. It shouldn’t have been this hard but it was. Crowley had felt so content when he’d kissed Aziraphale, like he belonged there with him and somehow felt the other had felt the same. How was he supposed to tell him that without scaring him away? With the heat of the moment gone, he was left unsure of himself and what to do next.

Aziraphale felt much the same and getting frustrated, he decided to get down to the main reason he came there. “Crowley...are you free tomorrow? I would very much like to...spend time with you.” 

Crowley grinned into his salad again and nodded. Aziraphale, feeling bold, placed his hand on top of his. 

…

Madame Tracy had given Crowley the day off so long as he promised to help her on Sunday, which he’d readily agreed to. He had not actually been free when Aziraphale asked but was willing to do just about anything to spend more time with him at that point. Madame Tracy had smiled when he told her why and he was certain she was purposely giving him a hard time to watch him squirm. 

Crowley made sure to drag himself out of bed at a decent time and wipe the sleep from his eyes. It was getting easier to get himself up when he wanted and he wasn’t sleeping as much as he had been but he could still feel the urge to close his eyes and never wake up every so often. Maybe he would visit a doctor when given the chance. 

Unfortunately, Hastur and Ligur both seemed to be home. He could hear them stomping about the flat and mumbling to each other. He hadn’t seen them in days, Ligur even longer. He hadn’t heard anything from Bee so he figured he was safe to go out. A shower was out of the question though, and he cursed himself for not taking one the night before. 

He took longer than he needed to pick out an outfit for the day. Aziraphale hadn’t said what they’d be doing, just to meet him at a nearby park around noon. Crowley’s entire wardrobe was made of black and grey with just a tad of red mixed in. He didn’t think Aziraphale had ever seen him in red before, so he picked a deep red v neck with a pair of black jeans and a black vest. 

Hastur thought he looked ridiculous and said as much as soon as he exited his room. “You only wish you could look as good as me, grandpa,” Crowley said in reply. 

Hastur, who was only twenty-five but already sensitive about his age, sneered at him. “Where the hell are you going anyway?” 

“Yeah, man,” Ligur questioned from the kitchen. He was eating leftover fried chicken Crowley was 100% certain had been in there for over a week. “I’ve barely seen you since you got arrested.” 

The taller man cringed at that but hid it well with a shrug. “Been busy. Where the hell have you two been?” Neither answered, either because they knew it was rhetorical or because they didn’t care to tell him. He took the opportunity to duck into the bathroom and clean up as best he could. He fixed his hair and brushed his teeth twice before rushing for the door. 

Ligur stepped in the way. “You got a date or something?” 

Crowley’s jaw set. He couldn’t let them even get a hint of Aziraphale or else he’d put the man at risk. “Doing stuff for the church today, s’all.” 

Hastur laughed, “Baby boy must be scared of jail, what with how he’s racking up these hours.” 

Ligur joined in on the laughter and came to sit next to Hastur to share his old chicken. Crowley took the moment for what it was and dashed out the door, making sure he had his keys. Holding them in his hand, he couldn’t help but question how long this would last. His hours would be up soon with all the time he’d been putting in and soon Bee would want him doing jobs again. Would Aziraphale still want to see him if he was still working the underground? The answer didn’t matter, though he knew it without needing to think about it. He would never let Aziraphale get close to this. Suddenly he felt sleepy but pushed the feeling back and started on his way. 

He left early to get away from the others so he was early meeting Aziraphale at the park but was surprised to find the blond already there, holding a small bag to his chest and waiting patiently. His eyes lit up when he saw Crowley headed his way. He’d left the flower shop the day before the way he came, with a simple kiss on the cheek but when he practically bounded towards Crowley in excitement the younger man couldn’t stop himself. As soon as he was close enough he grabbed him around the waist and pulled him close to kiss him squarely on the mouth. 

Aziraphale’s bag fell to the ground, forgotten, as he wrapped his arms around Crowley’s neck after the initial shock wore off. It started out just as their first kiss, tentative and slow. Crowley grinned into it, trying to savor every second. This time there was no one to interrupt them, no one to come looking. The others at the park barely gave them a passing glance as they continued on their way. When he pulled back, he did so completely. He looked into Aziraphale’s blown wide eyes and blushed. 

“Uh, hi,” the blond said, looking down at his feet awkwardly. 

“Hi, yeah,” he replied, looking down also. “Sorry.” He reached down and grabbed the discarded bag. He hoped nothing too important was in there. 

“Oh, nothing to be sorry for, dear boy.” Aziraphale took the bag back and hesitated a moment as if deciding what to do. Coming to a decision, he took hold of Crowley’s hand and started walking into the park. 

Crowley allowed himself to be pulled, enjoying the view from behind too much to pay attention to where they were going. Which was why he let out a surprised “ducks?!” as soon as he saw them. 

Aziraphale was not at all put off by Crowley’s reaction and had, in fact, thought he’d receive something similar, though perhaps not as adorable as it was. He giggled into his hand and brought out a bag of cut grapes. “I thought we could feed them. They’re very cute. After there’s ice cream over there and I have a blanket to lay in the grass. I also brought a book I wanted you to look at. I found it the other day and thought of you.” 

Crowley felt his heart swell up a little. Aziraphale had planned out the afternoon for them. It was simple, really, but most certainly a date. It was rather intimate, considering they’d have no other option but to talk to one another. And it was exciting, that feeling of promise. Carefully, he took a grape from the outstretched bag and tossed it gently into the water where a nearby white duck quickly swam to and ate it. “I thought ducks ate bread…” 

“Actually it’s recently been stated that bread is terrible for their health.” 

Crowley thought about all the ducks in the world that had been fed bread for centuries by humans. “Poor buggers,” he murmured, throwing another silenced fruit in. A nearby black duck swam over and then the two swam off together. 

They fed the ducks, talking quietly about everything they could think of. Aziraphale was funny, and a right bastard. He could make Crowley laugh with glee over the simplest of things. After they walked around the park with their ice cream, holding hands and bumping shoulders. Just as Crowley was getting hot enough to regret his fashion choices, Aziraphale asked if he wanted to sit on the blanket in the shade. He readily agreed and laying side by side they read their respective books, interpreting one another when they read something they wanted to share or had a thought. 

Crowley asked how much trouble Aziraphale had gotten in after the dinner on Saturday and the blond had only shrugged, putting his book aside as he looked at him. “I live on my own and pay my own bills, how much do you think they could do to me?” 

Crowley gave a shrug of his own. It could still be difficult to deal with family, or so he thought. He didn’t have one, hadn’t for a long time but surely, not everything is perfect all the time. “I’m still sorry I got you in trouble.” Suddenly, Crowley was struck with a horrifying thought. “Did they know before that you’re…” He trailed off, unsure how to label the other man or if he should at all. 

“Oh, yes, dear,” Aziraphale turned so he was facing Crowley. The other did the same, their noses almost touching. “The whole church knows I’m a southern pansy.” 

At this, Crowley choked out a laugh. “A what?” 

“A southern pansy,” he repeated, chuckling as well. “That’s what Shadwell called me anyway, though that was a long time ago and he meant no harm, I’m pretty sure. He thought we were dating before we were. Actually dating, I mean. Seemed perfectly fine with it.”

“Actually dating” ran through Crowley’s mind on a loop but he was unable to voice the words that came with it because Aziraphale, who seemed oblivious to his mini-crisis, kept talking. “He was a little wrong, though.”

He forced down his excitement for the time being. “Yeah, how so?” 

Aziraphale grinned. “I’m not a southern pansy. I’m THE southern pansy. Pretty sure I invented this.” He motioned to himself up and down and Crowley laughed. Without thinking, the taller leaned forward and kissed the blond on the lips again, cupping his cheek in his hand drawing him as close as he could. 

There was certainly no one else quite like him. 

…

**Need your keys. Don’t be late.**

The text had come just as he was rounding the corner towards the flat. It could not have come at a worst time. He’d spent the entire time back thinking of Aziraphale, the ducks, their kisses, and how badly he had wanted to roll on top of him and see how deeply he could make the blond blush. 

It wasn’t that they were in public that had stopped him, but that he honestly had no idea how far Aziraphale was willing to go. With his upbringing, would Aziraphale feel uncomfortable going any further? Would he think it too soon? It probably was but Crowley was too invested to care. Still, he didn’t want to scare him away. All he wanted to do was take a cold shower and go to bed. 

When he got the text, he thought about turning around and walking away. Maybe take a walk around the block before coming back to deal with them or maybe just walking away and not coming back at all. He felt strong enough to take whatever punishment Bee may try to give him. His feet kept walking in the direction of the flat while he debated and soon it was too late to run. He came face to face with Bee and the boys in front of the building. 

He looked around, pretending not to be surprised. “Well, where are they?” 

“Waiting for you,” Bee spat out, pointing to the car. “Take them for a test drive and give me the report. You know what I expect.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses and all but dragged himself into the passenger seat of the black SUV at the curb. He didn’t bother looking at the person while he fastened his seatbelt. “Let’s get this over with. One mistake and I cut you out. You’ll thank me when Bee doesn’t kill you for screwing up a job.” 

“Hello, Crowley.” 

He shot his head to the side and was met with a familiar face. “Michael.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! 
> 
> Please feel free to tell me what you think! Your comments and kudos are amazing. I still have no idea how long this story will be but I'm guessing around 15? More or less. I've got the next couple of chapters planned out and I know - more or less - how it will end. The next chapter we should see some smut as long as everything goes according to plan...


	9. Trust Me

The night’s dinner had settled considerably since the height of it. The Them had eaten and were on their way home. The teens were sitting at a table in the back, talking quietly amongst themselves while Miss Pearl kept one suspicious eye on them, and Agnes had all but forced Crowley to sit down and relax after all the work he put in that day. 

Aziraphale was the entertainment for the night. Dressed in a black magicians costume and wearing a drawn on mustache that Crowley had drawn himself, he was currently making bunnies and candy appear out of nowhere for the small kids. The older ones were not as impressed but the parents seemed happy and thankful. Crowley thought Aziraphale looked quite dashing in black. It was a shame he didn’t see it all that often. 

He was picking at his food while he watched, keeping one eye on Agnes and Miss Pearl who were helping the few stragglers who came in. September was almost over now and with the children back to school on reduced lunch prices, the dinners had not been as busy but they still filled the church basement two times over each weekend and sent plenty of food home with their guests as well. 

Crowley saw Michael walk in and instantly felt his blood run cold. She hadn’t been to the church, not for the dinners or to service-according to Aziraphale, anyway- in weeks. The blond was worried about her and Crowley had nodded in understanding and pretended he had no idea what was going on because he wasn’t supposed to know. Just the thought of lying to him made him want to sleep and forget the world. 

Michael saw him immediately and raised her eyebrow at him. He turned his head back to Aziraphale. The night they did their test drive came back at him full force now, as it often did whenever he thought of it at all. 

_ Michael put the car in drive and quickly pulled out onto the road, narrowly missing a car coming up the street. Crowley thought it had more to do with luck than skill but said nothing as she turned the corner too sharply, and then drove three blocks down. She pulled over into an empty spot and turned off the car.  _

_ “I would have failed you for the first turn you took,” he told her, unsure of what else to say. Driving like that with Bee would get her killed.  _

_ “That’s why I need you.”  _

_ “For what?”  _

_ Michael looked around the car, as if someone could be listening. Maybe there was.  _

_ “Is this your car,” he asked suddenly panicked and looking around for a bug. It didn’t make him feel better when Michael had nodded. “Are your lot listening in?”  _

_ She pointed to her chest to indicate a listening device. “Listen. We got word of Bee and the others. My people know they were with you the day of the antique shop but they don’t care about you anymore. They want Bee and the people they work for.”  _

Aziraphale finished his act then, humbly accepted the praise for a job well done and came to sit next to Crowley. It had taken a lot of convincing in order for him to take a backseat. He had spent the day making balloon animals and doing sleight of hand tricks instead of helping serve. In the end he had let Crowley take the lead. The redhead smiled at him now, bumping his shoulder as Aziraphale stole his fork and began eating his food. Crowley had been done with it anyway. And Lord, did he like watching Aziraphale eat. Even with that mustache. 

“Everything alright, dear?” 

Crowley nodded as second nature. They’d been spending all their free time together in the last couple of weeks, walks in parks, shopping in stores, and eating in restaurants. Holding hands and stolen kisses whenever he got the chance had become his life. “Yes,  _ dear _ ,” he mocked lovingly. The blond kissed his knuckles despite others watching. Crowley blushed because they were. 

He saw Michael standing off the side, looking as if she needed something. He gritted his teeth. She was not supposed to speak to him here! 

_ "They work the Underground. We got info Bee works exclusively with Lucian, the leader. My side set up this heist and spread the word that I was good enough for this job. I need to catch them in the act and we’ll take them all down.” _

_ “What the fuck do you need me for then?”  _

Crowley hated lying to him. Not just not telling him the full truth but actively lying to him when he wondered where he was or what he was doing while Aziraphale was at work. It made his stomach churn. He found himself praying, asking God to help him. To help Aziraphale understand when the time came. He wasn’t sure if anyone was listening but he had to try. It was the only thing he could do for the time being. 

“Oh, look, Michael is here!” 

Crowley bit back a sigh as the tall woman made her way over, having been waved to join them by Aziraphale. He gave a half interested wave. If not for the heist, he wouldn’t care about her at all. He found her to be a little stuck up and rude, particularly to Aziraphale. 

“Hello, Aziraphale, Crowley,” she said as she sat down with them. If the blond noticed their silent standoff, he didn’t act on it at all. “Sorry I haven’t been around. Work stuff, you know how it is.” 

“Oh, yes. How is your promotion going? Working on anything?” 

“Very well but nothing I can speak of at the moment.” She paused then, looking around. “You know, Aziraphale, I gotta hand it to you. These dinners are amazing. I’ve told my father about them and he is very impressed with you. Said to tell you he’d call to check in soon.” 

At least she had good enough grace to change the subject. Crowley was digging his fingernails into his thigh. He felt like he was about to have a heart attack. 

“Oh, that would be nice. And he is doing well, I presume?” 

“Still spreading the word of the Lord,” she told him, placing a hand to her heart. “I miss him though.” 

“Oh, but of course, Michael,” the blond tsked, placed his hand on hers. “We all do but I’m sure it is much worse for you. I feel it is silly of me to say so, but I feel like I must reassure you he loves you most of all.” 

Michael smiled warmly at him. It made Crowley want to sneer. 

With the food in front of him gone, Aziraphale did a little wiggle and stood up. “Dessert, love?” A content hum was his own answer. He watched Aziraphale walk out of sight and then put his hand up when Michael opened her mouth to speak. 

“We said we would not discuss this here.” 

“This is important.” 

“Don’t care.” 

_ "You failed me in ten seconds. I’m woman enough to admit that I am nowhere near as good as you are behind the wheel. I need you to convince them I can do this with a little bit of help from you. I’ve had the job pushed back already. When you bailed from our last session I had the safe deposit box moved to another bank. We have time before they find it again.”  _

_ Crowley didn’t want to know what was in the box, or supposed to be in it, so he didn’t ask. “I have no reason to help you.”  _

“They found the bank,” she whispered, leaning in a little. “We only have a week.” 

Crowley closed his eyes. “I want to tell him.” 

“You can’t,” she hissed, then smoothed out her face to wave happily at Gabriel. Unlike Michael, he had been around all the time. Too much for anyone’s liking, especially Crowley. He was always around trying to get between Aziraphale and him. It was very hard to put the moves on a guy when his asshole older brother was around. 

_ “No reason to help me? Crowley, if I take them down, you’re free of them. The police don’t want you anymore. They want them. Just a couple of weeks. Maybe a month. You’ll be free to be with Aziraphale. Oh, don’t give me that look. I’ve seen how you look at him.”  _

Even then, with all the emotions running through him, he knew without a doubt that Michael had been manipulating him. As she was now. She needed him, after all, and was willing to do anything to get what she wanted. 

_ “All I need from you is the in with Bee and then train me. We’ll do it when Aziraphale is busy. We can’t tell him.”  _

_ “I can’t lie to him!”  _

_ “You can and you will. The more he knows, the more danger he’s in. I doubt you let them know about him at all. You could endanger him. Is that what you want?”  _

Aziraphale rounded the corner with three dessert plates in his hand. One for each of them or all for him, Crowley wasn’t sure. It could go either way. He found it to be charming and absolutely too adorable for words. It made him feel like an asshole. He urged himself to speak up and tell the truth but Michael kicked him under the table and he kept his mouth shut. 

She’s been right about keeping him out of trouble, if nothing else. 

_ “How do I know I can trust you?”  _

After their conversation, they pretended to finish their test drive. With the most neutral face he could manage, he told Bee that she had shown potential. More than any of the others had he’d driven with and that with the right training she would be perfect for the job. That was all he could say without pushing it. 

Bee had narrowed their eyes at him, but eventually nodded. Hastur had sent Michael on their way with Bee’s instructions. They turned around to get into their own car and mumbled, “Train the bitch, then.” 

Crowley hadn’t slept at all that night. 

He pressed up against Aziraphale a little when he placed a plate in front of him. Angel food cake was his favorite. Aziraphale didn’t look at him, just nodded in response when Crowley thanked him. The cold behavior was strange, but the older man refuted anything wrong when questioned. 

Michael ate her dessert quickly and stood up. “Anyways, I have to go. Sorry to just pop in and out but I just wanted to let you know I was okay and all. I promise I’ll be around more again soon. Have a nice night.” 

_ “How do I know I can trust you?”  _

“Lift home,” Crowley asked Aziraphale as soon as Michel was out of sight, though he knew he would be driving him, just as he’d picked him up that morning. He finally got the Bentley working. She still had some work to do on her but she drove smoothly on the road. 

They finished cleaning up, said goodbye to the others who were all leaving as well, and got into the car. Crowley couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong but he had no idea what. Aziraphale glanced at him nervously but said nothing so Crowley started the car and headed to the blond’s flat. 

…

“Just look at them.” 

Aziraphale was busy studying the left over desserts when Gabriel broke his concentration. He was standing not far from him, arms crossed, and staring out into the dining area. Aziraphale looked simply out of curiosity and only found Crowley and Michael talking. 

“So what?” 

“I don’t know, Aziraphale. Michael is very pretty and they’re talking like they know each other, don’t you think so?” 

Aziraphale shrugged. They did a little bit. He’d spoken to Crowley about Michael plenty of times and Gabriel had no idea they knew each other from the jail. He’d managed to keep where he met Crowley a secret and Michael had done so as well without being asked. 

“I have seen them together,” Gabriel commented further. 

Aziraphake’s eyebrows knitted together. He had no problem with Crowley spending time with others, least of all his family. But if they had been spending time together or had even run into one another, why hadn’t they told him? He thought back just to be sure but he was certain Crowley had never mentioned it. Not even when Aziraphale had told him how worried he was for her. 

“They drove past me last week,” his older brother continued, as if he had no idea he was hurting him. “Looked like they were in a hurry. And I think dad said he say them together just the other day. You should ask him.” 

“I hardly think that’s necessary,” Aziraphale said, picking up all three plates and balancing as best he could with his shaky hands. He didn’t want Gabriel to believe he’d gotten to him. For all he knew his brother was lying. And if not, well, surely there was a rational explanation. 

Gabriel shrugged. “All I’m saying is this. Maybe you should make sure your boyfriend isn’t sleeping with your cousin before you betray God for him.” 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to respond back but the older man was already gone. As he walked back, he decided he would ask Crowley about it but not there. He couldn’t risk getting into a fight in the church. 

Now, sitting in the Bentley, it didn’t seem right either. Crowley drove a little erratically, not as crazy as he said he did when he used to work a job. It wasn’t like he could just miracle the car better if he wrecked it. Still, it was a little fast for his taste and he didn’t want to risk distracting Crowley was he drove. 

When they arrived at his flat, Aziraphale bit his lip. He turned to the redhead and tried his best to smile. He was letting Gabriel get to him, he was sure! Honestly, it all had to be innocent if true at all. It bothered him, though. Not knowing. Knowing there was a possibility and not knowing why. “Would you like to come up?” 

Crowley’s eyes widened. He’d never invited him up before. Hesitating, the younger nodded his head slowly and got out of the car with him. Crowley wasn’t sure what was happening. He thought something was troubling Aziraphale but now he was inviting him into his home. Maybe he’d just been nervous about it. Nervous about what? His mind whirled with possibilities, both good and bad. It made him want to jump out of his skin and run away. 

Aziraphale kept all the lights off when he wasn’t home. For now he only turned on the common room light, standing nervously at the door as Crowley walked in and looked around at what he could see. The redhead was telling him the obligatory things: it looked nice, that lamp suited him, and so many books. He asked about all the books, but Aziraphale couldn’t answer. 

He felt rooted to the ground where he stood, hands clasped nervously in front of him. He’d imagined Crowley here but not like this. He felt like he was making a big mistake but could not stop himself from making it. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley’s soft voice broke through his worried thoughts. “You’re scaring me a little here. What’s wrong?” 

“I need to ask you something, Crowley. If I’m wrong, I apologize in advance but I have to know.” 

The taller man steeled himself for whatever it could be. He’d been honest and upfront with the blond when he had asked about his criminal behavior before. It was painful to talk about some of it and downright shameful. He could barely stand to tell Aziraphale all the things he’d done wrong but he would answer any questions he had, just as he’d done before. 

Aziraphale took his silence as permission to continue. “Gabriel said he saw you with Michael.” He watched as Crowley’s entire body stiffened in what appeared to be fear. “I assume by your reaction that this is true. I beg you to please not lie to me.” 

Unable to speak, the other only nodded. On the outside he was completely frozen but on the inside he was screaming to tell him the truth, to beg him for forgiveness for not telling him sooner. When he saw the heartbroken look on his face, he prayed to have it taken away. 

Still standing by the door, trying desperately to keep his emotions in control, Aziraphale rung his hands nervously. “I know that we never actually said that we were...Well, I guess you’re free to do as you please but-“. This was so much harder than it should have been. He felt so embarrassed! Finally he blurted out, “You’re free to do what you want, Crowley, but I feel like I have the right to know if you’re sleeping with my cousin!” 

Maybe that was too forward. Maybe it was too much of a jump but Aziraphale could think of no other explanation now. Why hide it? What other reason could there be to keep their meetings a secret from him if they weren’t up to something to that effect? It seemed so unbelievable. Michael and him were not close but he never believed she would do something like this. Didn’t she know how he felt? Wasn’t it obvious to everyone who looked at him? 

“No, Aziraphale,” Crowley choked out, feeling as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He reached for the other but the blond merely flinched away. “That’s not...I promise! I promise you, Aziraphale, nothing is going on between me and Michael.” 

Silence. 

“Believe me, please.” 

“Then tell me why,” Aziraphale said, voice strong but quiet. “Tell me why you didn’t tell me. Why you’re running behind my back?” He was so embarrassing close to tears now. 

_ “We can’t tell him.”  _

_ “I can’t lie to him!”  _

_ “You can and you will. The more he knows, the more danger he’s in. I doubt you let them know about him at all. You could endanger him. Is that what you want?”  _

No. That wasn’t what he wanted. He’d managed to hide Aziraphale from Bee and the others from the beginning or so he thought. Bee always had the upper hand. There was no getting around that. For all he knew, they knew everything. Crowley was helping Michael because he wanted out. He’d always wanted out, but now he wanted out so he could be with Aziraphale. 

Crowley’s hands started to shake, so he shoved them in his pockets. “I…I can’t right now. I promise-“ 

At the use of another ‘promise’ Aziraphale tsked. 

“- I will tell you when I can. It’s important that you don’t know, so you can stay safe.” 

Silence. Finally, Aziraphale moved away from the door. “Maybe you should go, Crowley.” 

Crowley’s heart more than sank. It ripped itself out of his chest and bled on the floor for all to see. He moved to the door but stopped with his hand on the handle. He pressed his forehead against it and took several deep breaths. “Do you trust me?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Do you trust me, Aziraphale?” He turned towards him now. He reached for him again and this time the blond didn’t push away. He wrapped his long fingers around his shoulders, just hard enough to keep him steady but loose enough he could tear away in an instant if he wanted. He pressed his lips against Aziraphale’s fuller ones, the kiss desperate. To his surprise, the blond kissed back though he did not touch him. 

“Crowley…” A warning. 

“Just give me a little more time,” he urged. He reached up and took his glasses off, setting them down gently on the small table next to them. “I promise. All I want is you. Can you please trust me?” 

Something inside Aziraphale broke. Crowley looked positively shattered, lost and without a lifeline to hold on to. He prayed for guidance in that second. Despite everything, maybe because of everything, Aziraphale could not push Crowley away. In that single moment, he was able to push past the uncertainty and the pain and he knew. 

“I can trust you, Crowley,” he started hesitantly, raising his arms to wrap them around the taller man. “I can.” 

He kissed him then, tried to pour every ounce of feeling he felt into it. Crowley gratefully took what he gave, moaning into his mouth so breathlessly Aziraphale blushed. The redhead leaned forward, pressing his lower half into Aziraphale’s. The blond gasped when he felt Crowley’s cock pressed up against him. 

“Sorry,” Crowley mumbled, pulling back slightly. For all their stolen kisses and purposeful make out sessions, they had never gotten this far. Suddenly they weren’t fighting anymore. Suddenly there was nothing else that mattered anymore than them there together. Aziraphale pressed his own hardening length more urgently against the redhead instead of answering. In response, Crowley growled into Aziraphale’s mouth. 

The larger man took hold of Crowley’s shirt and much like their first kiss, he started to gently push back until Crowley got the hint. He was more than happy to allow Aziraphale to lead him wherever and was pleasantly surprised when they found their way to the bedroom. Crowley pressed Aziraphale down on the large mattress, settling between his legs. 

The blond watched as the other man took off his belt and then his slacks, moaning as his hand brushed against his erection. It was only when Crowley started on his shirt that he stopped him. “Uh…” 

It wasn’t as if Aziraphale had an issue with his body. He was chubby but had never had a problem with it before. He wore bathing suits on the beach without a shirt and to his memory had never looked in the mirror and wished for something else. Gabriel, of course, had made several comments throughout the years but they had never bothered him before. But now that he was there with Crowley, he couldn’t help but feel a little hesitation. He’d never undressed to such a level in front of anyone before. He’s never had anyone else undress him, and never in a million years did he think someone as stunning as Crowley would be the one doing it. 

The redhead tilted his head and slowly undid the buttons of Aziraphale’s light blue shirt. Crowley kissed his ample belly, his chest, and then the corner of his mouth. He pushed the shirt off his shoulders.“You’re beautiful.” 

Hands found their way to Crowley’s snake belt and together they managed to get it off, along with Crowley’s skinny jeans. Aziraphale pushed his shirt up and off and didn’t care where it landed in his otherwise clean room. 

Crowley’s lips found the junction where shoulder met neck and sucked and bit until an angry red mark formed. He wanted everyone to know, if Aziraphale wanted them too. The blond could easily hide it, or leave it exposed. The thought thrilled him. Under him, Aziraphale moaned and withered, bucking his hips up and creating friction between their aching cocks. 

Crowley met him with every thrust, the fabric of their boxers creating just enough slide to keep from going over too quickly. Slim fingers wrapped around plump hips pulling up to get a better angle as he pushed down. The blond wrapped his fingers into the hair at the nape of the other’s neck and pulled him until their lips met again. They kissed frantically, hands greedily grabbing at bare skin until Aziraphale wasn’t sure he could hold on anymore. 

“Ah, ah, darling,” the warning was barely past his lips before he found himself coming into his shorts. Crowley thrusted down once more and then was right behind him, a groan that sounded more name than sound falling from his lips. He rolled over onto the bed, gently kissing the mark he made as he did. He hadn’t broken skin but it would take some time to heal. 

Aziraphale looked sleepy, eyes half lidded and breathing even. Crowley took the opportunity to get up and find the bathroom. He cleaned himself up then brought a warm watered flannel back for the blond to do the same. He averted his eyes after a moment, looking around the clean neutral toned bedroom. The room was cluttered with books and papers, well loved and probably organized in a way the blond could find whatever he wanted in mere seconds. The only real mess in the room was their discarded clothes, Crowley’s dark ones sticking out against the rest of the room. 

“I should….go,” Crowley tried to say but it came out more of a question than anything else. He was surprised when Aziraphale placed his hand on top of his. 

“I would much prefer if you stayed.” 

It was not a request but simply a statement. He would be okay if Crowley left but he didn’t want him to. Crowley leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale again, this time slower and much sweeter than before. Then he got into bed with him and hugged Aziraphale close as the blond drifted off to sleep.

For once, Crowley couldn’t sleep. His body felt loose and happy but his mind raced. When he finally closed his eyes, he thought of Michael’s final words to him three weeks ago when they made their deal. 

_ “Of course you can trust me. I’m an angel.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This took a little bit longer to post than I thought it would. It took me longer to edit than I expected. As you probably know, all mistakes are mine. I am absolutely in love with all of you who have stuck with me here through this and have commented and left kudos. You're all amazing.


	10. It's Over

After church service on Sunday, Sandalphon had stepped Aziraphale aside and asked for him to come to his office for a meeting. The blond made excuses of schoolwork and left, promising to come to speak to his father at both their conveniences within the next couple of days. He was certain it was about Crowley, or else his father would have just told him outright or possibly just texted him. 

Aziraphale didn’t have much to fill the time after. He’d returned home to find Crowley had woken and left, leaving a note telling him his roommates would wonder where he was. He hadn’t really expected him to stay but he had hoped. He would have loved to find Crowley still in bed or making tea in the kitchen. 

Signing, he sat at the small table between the living and kitchen areas and pulled out some schoolwork. He hadn’t been lying to his father about having work to do, he just wasn’t expecting to get to it so soon. He lost himself in the work for a while, loved the way the words of Keats, Poe, and Blake flowed from the books. He compared the works in front of him and wrote an outline for the paper due the next week until his phone rang. 

He was surprised but overjoyed to find that it was his uncle Remiel. He had not spoken to him in nearly a year now and had not seen him even longer. His father and Michael had been luckier than him, having taken a trip the previous year to visit him in Italy together. 

They spoke of his travels and the people he’d met since they last spoke. Aziraphale soaked in every word and wished desperately to be able to help as much as his uncle did. Soon, Remiel steered the conversation to Aziraphale and the blond sighed in his hand. He told him about Gabriel and his father, reassured him over Michael despite his own growing worry, broke down the dinners to him with great detail, and finally, happily, told him of Crowley. 

“His name is Anthony but he goes by Crowley?” 

“Yes, he’s been such a big help since coming to us. His ideas for the dinners have been amazing. He doesn’t go to the services, mind you, but I feel he’s still a little lost on that end, not that it matters.” 

“No,” Remiel agreed, “That is hardly what matters in the end. It sounds like you like him very much, Aziraphale.”

He felt brave over the phone, especially to someone he thought might understand. “Yes, uncle Remiel, I...care so deeply for him. He and I are, well…” 

“Oh,” his uncle said, knowingly. Remiel had traveled all over the world and seen people and things most didn’t. He knew more people and heard more stories than anyone could imagine. It was because of all his experiences that he chuckled and said, “I am very happy for you. It sounds like he’s a good man from what you’ve told me.” 

Aziraphale did not tell him the full truth, worried it would get back to his father. Instead, he smiled and said the most simple truth he could think of. “He really is.” 

An hour later, Aziraphale hung up the phone feeling happy. He knew Crowley was at work by now and wondered if Madame Tracy wouldn’t mind him stepping in for a quick visit. He knew Crowley had been working on a few projects in the shop he wanted to check out. He was just about to clean up the work left on the table when someone knocked on the door. 

He peeped through the hole and opened it immediately to see his father standing with his back to the door. His father looked just as surprised as him when he turned around and looked at him. He peered into the flat, searching, and raised his eyebrow in question when Aziraphale wordlessly moved away to let him in. 

Sandalphon walked through the narrow hall until he made his way to the table. He picked up Aziraphale’s open poetry book but said nothing about the subject as he set it back down next to his open computer. Aziraphale was too busy feeling lucky he looked busy than to care that his father would certainly disapprove of the work. 

“I thought for certain I would find your friend here,” his father commented, looking around the place some more as if he would find him hiding behind a door or in a closet. He moved back to his youngest son and with a single finger pushed the collar of his shirt to the side, revealing the mark Crowley had left the night before. “What with how you two are.” 

Aziraphale blushed but didn’t avert his eyes. He had worn his normal to service that morning, the shirt and bow tie hiding the love bite from prying eyes in the church. He felt it was too inappropriate to show it off there but figured he would later. He’d removed his tie and opened his shirt on the bus home and had completely forgotten about it over the course of the morning. “He’s at work at the moment.” 

That certainly implied things but so did the mark on his neck. Sandalphon nodded his head, “Well, I’m glad. That he’s working, I mean. That he has a job.” The older man tripped over his own words. With a pointed look towards the kitchen, he turned away and made himself a cup of tea.

“Father, can we please get to whatever it is you want to speak to me about. I assume it’s about Crowley.” 

“It is,” his father spoke up immediately, no longer beating around the bush. Aziraphale had wanted this but it still made him cringe. “I wanted to ask just how close the two of you were getting but I can see quite plainly now.” 

“I do not wish to argue with you over my ‘betrayal of God’, as Gabriel had so crudely put it. I’m not ashamed of who I am.” 

Sandalphon looked shocked. “Your brother is not the most kind.” 

Aziraphale did not comment. 

“I apologize on his behalf,” his father continued when he realized Aziraphale wouldn’t speak. “Son, I can still remember the day I knew for certain you were gay. It was a full year before you told me and still, even with all that time to prepare, I was shocked. I’m still...not overjoyed with your...lifestyle-,” he paused then, for even he knew the term was outdated. Finally he settled on the bottom line. “I am worried.” 

“The church is well aware of my  _ lifestyle _ .” He threw the word back at his father rather harshly. 

“I am not worried about them,” he told him, taking a long sip of tea. “I am worried about you. Aziraphale, do you feel accepted by God?” 

The blond choked on air. “Of course I do.” There had been a time when he had not. When he first came out it had been hard and he had questioned. His view had changed then and while he did not believe the Great plan so great all the time, he had found peace again in Their Grace. It was not God who had condemned him, it had been the followers. 

“Then that is what matters,” Sandalphon said, “but I do wish to tell you I am not concerned for you for being gay. I’ve gotten very used to the idea and frankly, it makes me a little uncomfortable but that’s my problem to deal with. Not yours.” 

Aziraphale felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. “Then why are you here?” 

His father looked at him as if he’d caught Aziraphale stealing cookies, which he had done so many times as a child. “You forget that Judge Masters is my friend, not yours.” 

Aziraphale nodded slowly, “Of course. So he told you…?” 

“Everything.” 

“Ah, and I am to assume you’re concerned because…?” 

Sandalphon should have known his son would make this more difficult than it was. He set his cup down on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, a habit the older son had picked up on when he was cross and usually about to say something rude. It made Aziraphale flinch just slightly. “He is a criminal, Aziraphale.” 

“Reformed.” 

“Oh, so you believe a couple of hours serving the underprivileged has changed the man?” Sandalphon blew out his nose. 

“No, I don’t think that,” Aziraphale bit back without hesitation. “Crowley was never bad. He just had a hard life that was hard to get out from under.” He didn’t say more. It was none of his father’s business but he felt he needed to defend him. 

“People always have a choice.” 

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed. That much was normally true but there were so many things that could make a person choose the wrong way. Fear, pain, depression, and a shitty alternative of homelessness were just a few he knew Crowley had dealt with. These were not for his father to know. “He is choosing to be better.” 

His father leaned against the counter, picked his cup back up and drained it in one go. “Is there nothing I can say to you to change your mind? I do not want him to influence you.” 

“No, there is not.” 

Accepting this, his father moved forward and place his hand hesitantly upon his shoulder. “I do hope you know what you’re doing.” 

Aziraphale did not speak again. He watched as his father walked out without looking back and then sat down at the table to finish cleaning it. He didn’t want to deal with it. He didn’t want Crowley to have to deal with it. He figured he would calm down before heading over to the flower shop. He thought about not going at all but knew, truly, nothing could keep him away.

…

“Aziraphale!”

The blond looked up from the old book he was looking through. Crowley had the camera positioned already and took a picture before he could turn away. He’d been trying to get one all morning of him with Aziraphale ducking away. 

“Unfair, I was distracted,” Aziraphale said, holding up the book and pouting. Crowley only grinned in response, leaning forward to give the blond’s still pouting lips a kiss. “Can I see it at least?” 

Crowley tilted the camera so he could see. Madame Tracy had pulled her digital camera out of storage and asked Crowley to take pictures of the shop to update her website and facebook page. The redhead had used some tricks he used from the book he bought from Mr. Terry and upon seeing the work he did, she had insisted he keep the camera.

He told Aziraphale he rather liked it and planned to take pictures of the church to make flyers for the local library and shops in the area to let people know about the dinners who may not already. 

In the picture, Aziraphale was sitting on the floor going through the books he had stacked in front of him. He and Crowley were currently going through the back room in the basement of the church that was past the bathrooms. It was mostly used for storage but storage for what he wasn’t sure. So far it had all been stuff no one had bothered to touch in years. Most of it looked like it would be heading for the dumpster but Aziraphale had gotten distracted with all the old books. Crowley had managed to capture the perfectly happy look on his face the second before he tried to place the book in front of him. The light behind him was harsh but with the angle and the color of his hair, Crowley had managed to make him look like, well, an angel.

“Oh,” the larger man said, “you actually made me look…” 

Crowley kissed him again. “I didn’t make you look anything. You just are.” 

Aziraphale blushed. “It’s still a lovely picture. Will you keep it?” 

The redhead scoffed lightly. “Of course I am.” He was going to frame it, in fact. 

Crowley was still admiring the picture when they heard banging coming from the back entrance of the church. It was faint and probably would have gone unnoticed if they hadn’t been silent at that exact moment. Curious, Aziraphale stood up and moved down the hall, Crowley directly behind him. The redhead cursed himself when they turned the corner and moved towards the door, seeing Hastur’s face peering in through the window. 

He saw them. 

Crowley stopped Aziraphale. “My roommates,” is all he said, voice low. 

Aziraphale forced a smile, shrugging. “We’ve been seen, my dear. Nothing much else to do.” 

Crowley stayed where he was while Aziraphale walked to the door to let them in. He had to shove his hands in his pockets to stop himself from pulling the blond away. He couldn’t let them know his feelings for Aziraphale and he hoped the blond knew that and not be offended. 

“Hi, guys,” Crowley called to them, forcing his voice to remain calm. “What are you doing here?” 

“You haven’t been around,” Ligur told him as he stepped inside, looking Aziraphale up and down. “Just thought we’d check with you and see how you're doing.” 

“How kind.” the blond smiled at them. “I am Aziraphale, my father runs the church here.” After a beat, “and your names?” 

The two grunted at him. “Crowley hasn’t mentioned us?” 

Crowley could not see Aziraphale’s face but saw his shrug. “No, my apologies. To be honest, we don’t talk about our personal lives here.” 

Ligur noticed the mark on his neck and looked at the man in front of him up and down before introducing them. They don’t shake Aziraphale’s outstretched hand. “Can I offer you fellas something to drink? We really are quite busy here but please don’t feel rushed to leave. My father and Judge Masters are upstairs but should be down shortly for their afternoon tea.”

Crowley glanced up at the ceiling. He knew the pastor was there, as he so often was throughout the week but he had no idea the Judge had stopped by. Maybe he hadn’t. Crowley honestly couldn’t tell if Aziraphale was lying or not, so he hoped the others couldn’t either. A Judge was not as much as a deterrent as the police but Crowley didn’t think the others would risk it. 

“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” Hastur said, his smile too thin to be anything other than fake. 

Aziraphale motioned for them to take a seat on the bench against the wall and moved to the kitchen to make the tea. As he did, he glanced at Crowley. He did hate to leave Crowley alone with them but he saw no other alternative. As soon as the men had stepped through the door, Aziraphale knew who they were. Crowley hadn’t given him a lot of details about the failed job that got him arrested despite answering all his questions over the last several weeks. He never told him just who the other would-be robbers were but now he knew. He had suspected, of course, but now he knew for certain. 

He set about making the tea, keeping one ear out in case Crowley needed him. 

“You know we have a date for the job, don’t you?” 

Aziraphale stilled in his movements, moving slightly to get a better look. 

Crowley shrugged, hands still in his pockets. “No, Bee didn’t tell me anything.” 

“Saturday,” Ligur told him, “you and that bitch better be ready.” 

Crowley and Michael had one more practice run between then and Saturday. She had improved over the last couple of weeks and with some luck, could pull off the job as needed. And she needed. Or else they might get caught too soon without Bee leading the police to Lucian. “She’ll do fine, I’ll make sure of it.”

Aziraphale felt like his heart might explode.  _ What on earth are they talking about?  _

Hastur looked around to make sure no one else was there. Aziraphale ducked slightly around the corner so as not to be seen.“The bank is Chesterton Front, on Main.” 

“I don’t need to know that,” Crowley told them, “I’m on ice remember? Arrested.” He motioned around them with one hand. 

“Bee wants you there anyway. Just in case your chick fucks up.” 

Probably to beat the crap out of him. Maybe kill him and her. He was starting to feel like he wasn’t as loved anymore as he used to be. Crowley didn’t comment further, just nodded his head. Hastur and Ligur left without saying another word, the door slamming behind them. 

When Crowley turned back towards the kitchen, Aziraphale was standing in the doorway, his lips pressed into a thin line and no tea in sight. He felt his heart fall into his stomach. It had only been three days since he begged Aziraphale to give him more time and he knew at that moment his time was up. “You heard?” 

Aziraphale nodded. “I don’t understand.” 

“That’s probably for the best…” 

“No,” he told him sternly, “I very much disagree. I understand what you and your friends are doing on Saturday. Robbing a bank has got to be the dumbest thing anyone could do. What I do not understand is why, Crowley.” 

“I need more time.” 

“More time for what?!” Aziraphale exploded, making Crowley step back. He hoped his father hadn’t heard him. 

“More time to lie to me? More time to get yourself arrested again?!” Aziraphale tried to calm down. He tried to remember how he felt the week before. How had he felt so sure then when he felt so lost now? 

“I don’t have a choice.” 

“You always have a choice!” He roared back, thinking of his father now. “Don’t you get that? You choose to save me that day. You could have ignored your community hours but you choose to come here and help. Now you’re choosing to lie to me. You’re choosing them when I thought...I thought-,” His voice broke off in a sob and it was only then that he realized he was crying. 

“Aziraphale…” 

“No,” he stepped back, “I need you to leave, Crowley. I need you to go. Please, I’ll...sign off on your hours but please just leave me alone.” 

Crowley opened his mouth, to spill his guts, to cry, to do whatever was needed to make Aziraphale listen and understand but the blond rushed past him back out the dining area and down the hall. He could hear him climbing the stairs, stumbling as he went.  _ To the chapel.  _ He thought about going after him but knew he couldn’t listen to him right now. He tried to shield himself against the pain as he pushed out the church doors and dialed Michael’s number. “We need to meet.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really do angst. I'm not a super fan of it but it can't be all sunshine and rainbows, right? As this story is coming to a close-only a few chapters left, I keep thinking about what I'm going to work on next for these guys...Originally I had mentioned I started a University AU but wanted to focus on this. I haven't touched that since but will eventually. I've gotten several other ideas, AU and canon that I want to write for them. I might break them down a bit to post about, maybe on tumblr to ask for opinions. Anyways, all mistakes are mine! 
> 
> Also, I really enjoy as a fandom that we've all somehow agreed that Crowley is creative. He draws, paints, music, photography, whatever. He's creative. I love that.


	11. Stay at Mine

Michael pushed her hair back out of her face, her hands quick and efficient in setting the long dark locks up in a high ponytail. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tried to brush the overall feeling of fatigue away but with no success. She gathered herself mentally as she grabbed her gear and headed out into the world. For once the sun seemed too bright against her skin and she lifted her hood from her jacket up to block it. 

They had told her that her promotion would come with some excitement. She thought they had meant murder cases but found instead they threw her directly into undercover work. They had warned her it wouldn’t always be glamorous but she had no idea that it could be this hard. They had advised her to hold on to her real life as much as she could, so not to crack under the pressure of it all but she found with more passing time that it was her normal life that fucked with her mind. 

It was truly exhausting to live two separate lives and having to move between them so effortlessly at the drop of a hat. She was now living in two separate flats on complete opposite sides of town, using two different last names, and even had to change her clothes more often than she kept count of. Even the travel mug for her tea was different. 

Maybe it was because the case hit her so close to home. She had tried to get out of it when they first brought it to her attention, citing a conflict what with her little baby cousin making ‘goo goo eyes’ at the man they wanted to be her way in. Her superiors had said it would be to her advantage, that she was picked for this job because of the relationship. She wondered how they’d known about it to begin with but didn’t ask.

It was all pressing down on her now. All the lying was getting to her. If it had not been to her own family, maybe it would have come easier. She had spoken to her father just the other day and lied through her teeth about her job and what she’d been up to in her spare time. In reality she had no spare time, moving from Michael the cop to Michael the criminal in seconds of each other. She knew what she was forcing Crowley to do to Aziraphale was hurting them both and part of her did feel bad. The other part of her knew no one had a real choice in the matter. 

Crowley was pissed at her. She’d ducked out on their phone call the previous day, saying she’d been at the precinct and couldn’t talk. In reality she had been leaving at that moment but already running late for a meeting with Bee. In just a handful of meetings they’d had together, Michael knew that was a bad idea. 

She was surprised to learn that Bee wanted Crowley along for the job in case something went wrong but had not specified exactly why. It was concerning. Not only was Crowley absurdly pissed at her for dragging him into this now but Michael had a growing suspicion that Bee did not trust either of them. 

Her travel mug was blue, so that meant she was going to the precinct again today. Black was for when she was meeting with Bee. She walked around aimlessly for a while as to make sure she wasn’t being followed before finally turning down the path that would take her to the station. Despite all her efforts, she was caught off guard when Crowley appeared from nowhere, seamlessly moving along the sidewalk next to her without so much as a sound. 

“Fuck,” she hissed under her breathe, taking a moment to calm down before walking along the path again. If Crowley had managed that, how likely was it that someone else had been following her? 

As if reading her mind, Crowley said, “Don’t worry. It’s just me.” 

“What are you doing here?” She hissed back at him, pulling her hood higher and looking around. She didn’t trust him farther than she could throw him. For all she knew, he was working for Bee just as deep as he was before. 

“I told you we needed to meet,” he spat back, purposely slowing down so she could catch up. It did not escape his notice the weight of everything coming around her. She did not look like the same woman he’d met before back at the station. She didn’t even look the same from Saturday and it had only been a couple of days. That was what Bee did to people. He refused to feel sorry for her, instead thinking of Aziraphale and the look on his face when he asked him to go the day before. “Aziraphale knows.” 

“About me?”

“No, about me,” he growled at her. “The guys came around the church yesterday and he overheard that Bee wants me there for the job. Oh, also, what the fuck did you do to get me in this more than I already was?” 

Michael shrugged, “I’m just as surprised as you are, to be honest. Bee told me at our meeting. I don’t think they trust me. “

“They don’t,” Crowley reassured harshly, “but if it makes you feel better I don’t think they trust me either.” 

Michael hummed. It did not make her feel better. In fact, it made her feel ten times worse but she didn’t say anything. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” 

“I want you to take Bee down now. Get this over with. I’m sure you have enough crap on your bug to make charges stick.” 

“For them, yes but not nearly enough for Lucian and that’s who I’m going after. I need you to hang on until Saturday. I’m sure Aziraphale will be fine until then.” 

“He thinks we’re sleeping together.”

Michael spit out her tea, coughing. “Gross. Why the fuck does he think that?”

“Gabriel tipped him off he saw us together. I convinced him it wasn’t like that but since then he’s lost some faith in me, alright?” 

Michael groaned. Just one more thing she had to worry about. “How could he think I’d sleep with you?” 

“Feelings mutual.” 

They rounded the corner to the station so Michael turned sharply to face him, using her hand to push him back out of her personal space. “Listen, I’m sorry okay,” she started, sounding anything but, “but unless you got something on Lucian I can take to my bosses you have to wait until Saturday.” She paused. “You got anything, Crowley?” 

The redhead sneered, “Michael, until you told me, I didn’t even know the guy had a name.” 

…

Madame Tracy was smart enough not to ask when he showed up for his shift twenty minutes late. She looked as if she was going to say something but closed her mouth when she saw the crestfallen look on his face. She didn’t scold him when he snapped at an annoying customer, didn’t ask him to finish updating the website(though he did), and she didn’t ask him to join her and Shadwell for lunch. 

The older woman had tickets to a Burlesque show she was dragging her fiance to, so she left him to lock up for night. She was in a bit of a hurry, as she waited until the last possible second to leave and get ready at home. She hadn’t told Shadwell exactly what kind of show they were seeing and didn’t want to give him too much time to question the surprise. A regular had come in right as she was putting on her coat and now she said she wouldn’t have time to fix her hair. 

She was at the door ready to go when she took one last look around the shop and by extension, Crowley. After a moment, she closed it and turned to completely face the young man. “All day I’ve said nothing. Now, spill.” 

Crowley shrugged. “Aziraphale and I got into a fight.” 

She nodded slowly, coming up to the counter he was working on. He didn’t take his eyes off the arrangement in front of him. She lightly gripped his chin. It shocked him. He looked up, a sliver of fear in his eyes before it melted away back into sadness. “Did you two break up?”

He forced his eyes back down, shrugged again. It felt like they had. The pain in his chest was enough to make him want to vomit but there was just apart of him that couldn’t believe it possible. Part of him holding on to hope that once everything was over, he could tell him the truth and maybe he’d forgive him. “Maybe, I don’t know.” 

“You could always ask him.” 

He shook his head. “Not until Saturday,” he realized the heist wasn’t until that night, “maybe Sunday. He doesn’t want to talk to me right now.” He doubted he had any chance until then.

“Okay,” she nodded. Silence fell over them for a moment. “Look, kid, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” 

He grunted. 

“Flowers and an apology can go a long way. Lock up when you go.” 

With that, she checked her watch, cursed to high heaven and then ran out the door without another word. 

Crowley looked around the shop at the flowers before settling on the arrangement he’d been working on. The sunflowers stared back at him. He finished it, topping the flowers off with a pale blue ribbon before scribbling a message on the card and racing out the shop. He almost forgot to lock the door behind him and had to turn back after placing the sunflowers gently in the passenger seat of his car. 

“I  _ told _ you he was fucking that blond, man.” 

Crowley turned around quickly to find Hastur and Ligur standing along the sidewalk both leaning against a car that wasn’t there’s. Hastur was shaking his head.

Frowning, he took out his wallet and handed Ligur a fiver. 

“I didn’t think he was your type,” Hastur admitted, rubbing his belly. 

Crowley gritted his teeth together. “It was just a hookup.” 

Ligur turned towards the Bentley, which was parked part way down the street. “And the flowers are for who, then? Or are you apologizing for being that bad in bed?” 

Crowley tried to edge his way towards the car but Hastur stepped in the way. “Look, man, we just came to talk. You know Michael pretty well, don’t you?” 

He shrugged, “No more than you guys, unless Ligur’s found his way into her pants already.” 

It felt sick to joke about her. As far as he was concerned she was a selfish stuck up brat but she was still Aziraphale’s cousin. He knew he loved her, not just because she was his family but because he always saw the good when possible and simply wasn’t capable of anything but.

Ligur smirked, “Not yet but there’s time.” 

Hastur shot him a look, then turned back to Crowley. He pressed one hand into his chest and pushed him back until he was against the wall. Crowley could smell the cigarette on his breath as he snarled. “You haven’t been around much ever since you got arrested. Suddenly you get a boyfriend and a job and it’s almost like you’re too good for us. It makes us  _ wonder _ .” 

Crowley didn’t bother to deny his relationship with Aziraphale again. Pushing it would only reveal his desperation for them to believe it not true and they’d never believe him anyway. “Well Bee didn’t want me doing any jobs, Hastur. Were you going to cover my rent?” 

Hastur frowned, pushed his hand further into Crowley’s chest. “What do you know about her?”

He shoved his hand away and pushed himself off against the wall, forcing Hastur to take a step back. “I don’t know anything. If you’re so fucking concerned, why not talk to Bee?” 

The older man turned away in order to avoid the guilty look on his face but Crowley saw it under the harsh yellow of the street light almost directly above their heads. He tried to relax but felt his muscles tense. He hoped they didn’t notice. “So you did then? And Bee said what, to leave it?” 

“We don’t trust her.” Hestur looked at Ligur, who nodded. “And you know what, we don’t fucking trust you either.” 

Hastur shoved him back against the wall again and before Crowley could react Ligur moved forward and brought his fist across Crowley’s face. A swift knee to his stomach brought him to his knees. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that forever.” 

Hastur leaned down to where Crowley had fallen. “I know you know something you stupid piece of shit. You’ve gone rogue. We’ll fix that.” 

Crowley caught his breath, pushed himself up into a better position. “Go to Hell,” he spat and tackled Hastur to the ground. 

…

Aziraphale skipped class that morning. He emailed his professor saying that he thought he might have food poisoning and then buried himself into his bed with his books. He’d never had a mental health day before but felt it was well deserved. He felt so sad his body actually ached from it. He fell for Crowley so hard and so much faster than he thought possible and now with everything so uncertain, he felt off balance and that nothing was just quite right. 

Aziraphale could not get comfortable, Crowley’s scent still lingering on the bed sheets he’d never bothered to change. He was glad for that now, even though the smell made his heart twinge in a way that made him feel sick. Had they broken up the day before? Aziraphale wasn’t sure but how could he not know? He was the one who had sent Crowley away. He hadn’t meant forever, not really, no matter what he said. In that moment he just couldn’t imagine seeing Crowley in front of everyone else and having to pretend he was okay. 

The redhead had literally begged him to trust him and he had because he believed he knew the strength of Crowley’s character. Hearing that he was still involved with the others had been a punch to the gut he hadn’t been prepared for. If Crowley had lied about that, what else could he have lied about? Michael, obviously, came to mind. 

He wanted to call him but refrained. Crowley had offered no real explanation, leaving him completely in the dark. Spilling his heart to him would solve none of that and only serve to humiliate him more than he already was. He felt like a fool. 

Aziraphale slammed his book shut and tossed it down on the nightstand next to him. He couldn’t focus. He just sat there and reread the same page over and over without taking in any of the words. 

Eventually he cried. 

He cried until his eyes were red and sore and unable to stay open any longer. He cried until he fell asleep and cried more when he finally woke up after several fruitless hours of restless sleep. Everything reminded him of Crowley. The church reminded him of him, his books, the antique shop. Suddenly he realized just how far gone he was. How much Crowley had taken over every aspect of his life. 

He pulled himself out of bed and took a shower. After, he came into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. From where he stood, he could see the picture of his family on the small stand in the corner of the common area. It was the only picture he had of all of them, including his uncle Remiel. 

He walked over to the picture and picked it up, looking Michael over. She looked happy there, probably because her father was with her. She was tall and thin, beautiful without makeup and stunning with it. For the first time Aziraphale found himself comparing his own soft features to her sharp angles. 

It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t spoken to Michael at all about it. Quickly, he grabbed his keys and a jacket and rushed out the door. 

Michael didn’t live too far from him. He thought about catching a cap but decided he needed to walk to try and calm down or perhaps even talk himself out of it all together. Gabriel had put ideas in his head in order to hurt him and his relationship with Crowley. He knew this but he also knew Crowley was lying to him. There was no doubt in his mind that Michael was involved, one way or another. 

He was only more upset by the time he made it to her flat. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked politely once reaching her door, then more furiously when she didn’t answer right away. The door flung open after a moment. Michael looked flushed and out of breath and for one horrifying second, he thought Crowley might be there with her. 

He pushed past her, angry, hurt, and confused. 

“What the hell, Aziraphale?!” 

He ignored her but stopped himself from going any further than her common room. God, what was he doing? 

Michael slammed the door shut and stomped over to him. “Seriously, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” 

“Crowley is lying to me,” he told her, suddenly unable to help himself, “and I know that you’re part of it. He wouldn’t be seeing you behind my back otherwise. Tell me, Michael. Tell me what is going on...or ...or else!” He finished lamely, his chest heaving. 

Michael’s eyes widened. She sighed heavily, taking the necessary steps to stand directly in front of him. “Oh, Aziraphale,” she rubbed his shoulder lightly with her thumb. “I’ve been sleeping with Crowley.” 

Her words echoed in his mind, images of the two of them together flooded his head without his permission. He felt as if she’d reached inside and yanked his heart out, leaving him broken and bleeding on her floor. 

“Oh, _ oh _ ,  _ fuck. _ Aziraphale,” she shook him, then, bringing him back to her. He reached up to wipe the wetness from his face. It was then he realized he was crying. “I was just joking.” 

Aziraphale shoved away from her, sending both of them stumbling back. His chest heaved, his throat ached, and his entire body shook with anger. “How could you do that?!” 

Michael placed her hand on the back of her couch to balance herself. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you felt that strongly about him. But I promise I was just joking. I swear, nothing has ever happened between us.” 

“Why did Gabriel see you together?” 

Michael rolled her eyes, sighed again. She was so tired of all of this. She knew she was hurting them but seeing her cousin in front of her with tears streaming down his face really hit it home. “He should tell you. I guess it’s my fault he hasn’t. I told him not to, ya know? He wanted to.” 

Aziraphale didn’t budge. 

“Just talk to him, for the love of God. I doubt at this point he’ll listen to me anymore. You’re both bloody ridiculous.” 

“Michael,” he huffed at her, frustrated, and eyed her up and down. “How am I supposed to believe you?”

She ignored him. “Figures. You’ve been too busy questioning whether or not you’re good enough for him when he’s been in love with you since practically the beginning.” 

His breath caught in his throat. For one brief moment he felt as if the world had stopped. He needed to find Crowley. Feeling foolish, he ran past her and out the door. He hailed a taxi while he called Crowley’s number. When he didn’t pick up, he gave the driver his address and continued to call until he made it back to his building. 

As he slowly walked up the stairs to his flat, he didn’t hang up when he got Crowley’s voicemail. “Darling, please call me when you get the cha-”

He cut off when he turned the corner to his flat and found Crowley sitting at the door, head down and a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand. “Oh, Crowley…” 

The other man looked up and over at him and it was then Aziraphale saw the bruise forming on his face. “Hi, Aziraphale…”

“My goodness!” His feet took him there before his brain could catch up. “What happened?” 

“Got in a fight.” Crowley raised his shoulder in an attempt to look casual as Aziraphale helped him to his feet. He handed over the flowers, their hands brushing. Crowley’s knuckles were scraped and bruised. Aziraphale was certain he’d given as much as he got, if not more. “Hestur and Ligur jumped me outside the flower shop. I’m okay, though. Just a couple minor things.” 

He looked up into Crowley’s amber eyes, his glasses gone. Kissing Crowley was something Aziraphale didn’t think he’d ever get used to but he planned to find out by kissing him everyday for the rest of their lives. Reluctantly, he pulled away. “Come on,” he unlocked the door, “you can stay at mine.” 

As soon as the two were safely in the flat, Crowley reached out and hugged Aziraphale from behind, burying his face into his neck. “Thank you.” 

“For what, my darling?” 

“For not sending me away.” 

Again. The word again hung between them, stabbing Aziraphale in the heart. Crowley hadn’t said it out of mercy for him, he thought, but he deserved it. He turned in his arms and hugged him as tightly as he could and then eased up when Crowley hissed in pain. “I’m sorry I sent you away before. However much time you need, I’ll give you.”

“I haven’t done any jobs since the antique shop,” he told him. 

“Hush, dear. Let’s get a good look at you.” He gently pulled him to the bathroom and took out the first aid kit. There was nothing to be done with the bruise on his face or the ones on his torso but Aziraphale cleaned and wrapped the scrapes on his hands as best he could. 

Crowley felt like he might explode. He watched Aziraphale wrap his hands with care, panic rising with each passing second that they didn’t speak. He opened his mouth to apologize and instead everything he had wanted to say for the last few weeks came pouring out instead. Aziraphale listened intently, hands clasped tightly together in his lap as he nodded along to what Crowley was telling him. 

“- and I know you might not forgive me, -” 

For the first time since Crowley spoke, Aziraphale opened his mouth, cutting him off. “I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. Forgive me?” 

Crowley wanted to tell him there was nothing to forgive him for. That they’d put him in a position to question. That Crowley had given him reason to be untrusting. He didn’t, though. He could tell it was important to Aziraphale that he did forgive him, that he himself be held accountable for what he felt he did wrong. So he nodded, leaned forward to catch the blond’s lips until they were both breathless. “Always, angel.” 

Aziraphale shivered at the feel of Crowley’s breath against his lips. He took his hand and gently lead him out of the bathroom back towards his bedroom, heart pounding. 

“Erm, what are you...what are you doing?” 

“Taking you to bed.” 

Crowley’s heart jumped to his throat. He checked the time on the antique wall clock Aziraphale had in the common area. “It’s not late yet.” 

Aziraphale turned just slightly, so Crowley could see the soft smile on his face. “I know, darling.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, only a little bit of angst. 
> 
> My goodness. I only started this story a month ago and I'm almost done. Only 2-3 more chapters left to go! As always all mistakes are mine. You guys are seriously the most amazing and I adore every single one of you.


	12. Sauntered Vaguely Downwards

Crowley’s hands shook with growing anticipation and apprehension as he slowly undid the buttons on Aziraphale’s shirt with one hand. The other hand gripped the belt loop of his beige slacks, keeping Crowley steady as much as to keep the shorter man close. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been here before. It had not even been a week since they laid together last, but this was different. Crowley knew as soon as Aziraphale had smiled at him that this was different. That it was more. 

Crowley kissed his lips, his cheek, his jaw, and then settled back on the pulse point where he’d left his mark just a few days ago. The imprint had faded significantly over the last couple of days but was still pink and begging to be seen by anyone who looked at Aziraphale. The blond had made an effort to wear clothing that showed it off or went without his normal bow tie, even today, after everything. The redhead felt a surge of possessiveness run through him as he lapped and bit at the mark. 

Aziraphale tugged on Crowley’s hair and brought his mouth to his in a sloppy kiss. He slid his knee between his legs, grabbed the hem of Crowley’s shirt and pulled. He broke the kiss for only a second to yank the shirt up and off before discarding it haphazardly somewhere in the room. He pushed his own shirt off and wrapped his arms around the taller man’s shoulders, fitting his tongue through his lips. 

Crowley broke the kiss, panting. Aziraphale moved to unbuckle his belt but shaky hands came to wrap around his wrists, stilling his movements. “Are you..sure?” 

The blond pressed his knee further into him gently until he sat down on the bed. Aziraphale crawled up his body forcing the redhead to move up on the bed until his head rested on the pillows, Aziraphale’s knees on either side of his hips. Aziraphale kissed his neck, smiling into the skin when Crowley turned his head with a moan, giving him better access to the pale smooth skin. He sucked on the pulse point, wanting to give Crowley a matching impression for everyone to see. 

At the same time, plump but nimble fingers worked his belt open and off. Slowly, achingly slow, the blond popped open the button of his jeans and pushed both them and his briefs down in a single motion. They got caught Crowley’s shoes but Aziraphale made quick work of them, and then his own, and pushed everything to the floor. Crowley groaned low in his throat as the cool air hit his prick directly. 

He grabbed at his own cock, desperately needing something and not wanting to expect Aziraphale to do it. He wrapped his fingers at the base before pumping his hand up twice. Aziraphale watched hungrily and Crowley threw his arm over his face and groaned into it, suddenly a little embarrassed. 

“So beautiful,” the blond whispered, and then replaced Crowley’s hand, pulling up in a similar motion. Crowley jerked up when he did, all but keened as he bucked his hips up. “Is this okay?” 

Crowley could only nod frantically. The blond continued his exploration, experimenting with each flick of his wrist and watching the other man’s reactions as well as he could with his face still buried in his arm. 

“Darling…” Aziraphale sounded out of breath, “would it be okay, that is, I want to,..put my mouth on you.” 

Crowley moaned and Aziraphale took it as the invitation it was and lowered himself until he was face level with his lover’s cock. “Wait!” 

Looking at Aziraphale brought Crowley back to his senses. His body buzzed with desire. It felt like every cell was yelling at him for putting a stop to it. Aziraphale blushed, deep red starting at the base of his nose and spreading out his cheeks. 

“Am I doing something wrong?” 

Panicked, Crowley sat up on his elbow and all but yelped. “No! No, you’re not. It’s just that…”

It’s just that dry humping until you cum in your briefs isn’t the same as putting hands on each other, mouths on each other, moving inside each other. Crowley shivered thinking about how desperately he wanted that but he didn’t want Aziraphale to regret it later in the morning light when all had settled and the hormones had died down. 

“I’m willing to wait…”  _ until marriage.  _ Oh, God, the thought crossed his mind but thankfully did not leave his lips. It was far too early to be talking or even thinking about such things. But it was true. He didn’t want Aziraphale to sacrifice any of his beliefs for him. He wasn’t sure how to put it, how to say exactly everything he was feeling so he just blurted out the first coherent thought he had. “I don’t want you to...to sin for me.” 

Aziraphale’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Crowley wanted to reach out and smooth the lines away but kept his hand where they were. Finally, the blond smiled at him softly, cupped his cheek and said, “Oh, my dear boy, don’t you remember what I said about sins of love?” 

It was like the world fell off its axis. Crowley’s face split into a grin and Aziraphale giggled in response with pink-tinted cheeks. He came up to kiss him again, this time slow but still needy with desire. He trailed down his neck, his chest, and finally kissed the tip of his erect prick. Crowley had to make an effort not to buck his hips up. It made Aziraphale just a tiny bit proud, that he could do that to the younger man. Taking that feeling, he pushed his nerves aside and slid the tip passed his lips. 

It was an odd feeling. Not terrible, but not something he found very comfortable. Crowley was a heavy weight against his tongue, tasted strongly of musk and salt, and it seemed rather exhausting already to have to tuck his teeth away and he’d barely started. Yet, as soon as Aziraphale tucked his lips over the aching cock, Crowley’s hands tightened in the sheets at his side and his entire body clenched up. Interested, Aziraphale gave the tip an experimental suck and Crowley whined for more. 

Grinning, the blond continued, taking his cock slowly further into his mouth in a way that only someone doing so for the first time would do. It was slow and a little sloppy but practical in its execution. He watched, almost hypnotized as he memorized all of Crowley’s reactions. The way he gripped the sheets whenever he ran his tongue along the underside of his cock. The shaking of his thighs when he sucked him down as far as he could. The widening of eyes and the quiet whisper of “oh fuck” when he looked down and found Aziraphale already looking at him, tongue swirling around the shaft. 

“Fucking hell, angel,” the redhead gritted through his teeth. He grabbed onto the blond’s shoulders and pressed his palms lightly into him. He got the hint and pulled off slowly, his jaw aching. Crowley grabbed his hand and pulled him up to kiss him, then whispered in his ear. “I’m going to love coming in your mouth, Aziraphale, but not tonight.” 

Aziraphale shuddered, goosebumps rising on his skin despite his entire body feeling as if it was on fire. He nodded, desperately, as Crowley tore at his belt and zipper, pushing the rest of his clothing off in record time. 

“Do you, erm, have anything?” Crowley knew Aziraphale had never done this before and it had only occurred to him now that neither of them may be prepared. The blond didn’t answer, instead leaning forward to reach into his nightstand and drape himself over Crowley in the process. The taller man took the opportunity to drag his tongue over his nipple, loving the way he shivered. A second later and an unopened bottle of lube and a fresh-looking condom was placed into his hand. 

“After Saturday, well, I thought…” He looked embarrassed but the look was washed away when Crowley leaned up and kissed him. “Uh, how do you want to?” 

“That’s up to you.” 

Aziraphale suddenly looked distraught at having to make this decision. He bit his lip and tried to come up with an answer. So many images passed through his mind but no words came to his lips. Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hips gently and then rolled them until the blond was under him. 

“This might be easier.” 

Aziraphale nodded in agreement, his legs spreading automatically. Crowley bit the inside of his cheek, squeezing at the base of his own prick again. He badly wanted to dive right in but Aziraphale looked too good not to touch. He looked absolutely divine and Crowley wanted to  _ worship  _ him. 

He rubbed up and down the bigger man’s thighs, leaned down and kissed his chest, his belly and then sank his teeth into the flesh of his inner left thigh. Aziraphale jumped, a whimper fighting its way through his throat. “Oh, angel,” Crowley murmured into his skin, “let me hear you.” and then nipped him again just a tad harder than before. 

This time Aziraphale did nothing to hold back the whine. By the time Crowley finished with the skin there, the blond was left shaking. “My dear, I do believe you’re trying to kill me.” 

Chuckling, Crowley opened the bottle of lubricant with a “pop”. Aziraphale’s breath hitched at the sound. For what felt like an eternity, all that could be heard was their labored breathing and the ever-growing excitement between them that seemed to scream in the silence. A second later, Crowley pressed one slim finger against Aziraphae’s hole. It was surprisingly warm but it made him shiver as he traced the ring there before pushing into the first knuckle. 

Aziraphale let out a small wince of discomfort but quickly grew used to the feeling and relaxed. The redhead peppered his face with kisses as he pushed the digit the rest of the way in, swallowing the moan that came with it. The second finger hurt a little more, but only for a moment. The third finger had Aziraphale bucking up against them. “Crowley...Crowley,  _ pleassse _ .” 

The loss of his fingers was almost devastating but Crowley was quick to rip the condom open and line himself up. Hiking Aziraphalel’s leg up for a better angle, he pressed in with a single slow thrust until he rested completely inside him. He rubbed at Aziraphale’s hip in what he hoped was a soothing manner and kissed his lips. “Does it hurt?” It must. He almost felt as if he were suffocating inside the tight heat, the pressure making him dizzy with pressure. He had to fight himself not to just buck up. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath, said, “No, I’m okay.” 

It stung but he didn’t want Crowley to stop, didn’t want him to pause. He thought if he waited one more second he would explode. He still started off with slow and shallow thrusts. Aziraphale sighed in pleasure, the discomfort leaving him immediately. Crowley picked up his pace, holding onto Aziraphale’s shoulder for leverage. 

“Yes, yes, oh you feel,” Aziraphale all but cooed, voice breaking off in a strangled cry when Crowley found the bundle of nerves tucked deep inside of him. “ _ Fuck _ .” 

Crowley grinned, hiked his leg up higher around his waist and drove in as deep as he could. He groaned in response, feeling Aziraphale’s tight heat spasm around him. He knew neither of them were going to last much longer so he wrapped one hand around the blond’s neglected shaft and mumbled, “Wanna make you cum,” into his ear. 

It was all it took for Aziraphale to come completely undone, a sharp yelp falling from his lips as he coated both their stomachs. Crowley thrusted a few more times but the solid clench around him had him reaching his release almost instantly. 

Feeling sleepy and sedated, Crowley collapsed on top of his boyfriend, uncaring of the mess they’d left. He could hear Aziraphale moving around the drawer of his nightstand but only raised his head when he was prodded. 

Aziraphale handed him what appeared to be a baby wipe and a clean flannel, looking just a tad sheepish as he did. He shrugged, trying to look casual and missing the mark completely. “So we wouldn’t have to get up right away.” 

Crowley’s heart swelled at the idea of getting to lay and cuddle up to Aziraphale time and time again. On shaky arms, he pulled himself up to kiss him. “I love you.” 

He’d known for some time but was unable to address it, even with himself. He’d felt it even before, longer than he thought he could even pinpoint but if he thought about the exact second he began to descend, he could trace it back to what was the single most kind thing anyone had ever done for him. It began with a fall and the simple act of returning his sunglasses that Crowley found himself sauntering vaguely downwards until it was too late to catch himself. In spite of this and Aziraphale’s indirect confession from before, his heart hammered almost unbearably in his chest. 

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley completely, kissed his temple and whispered into his ear. “And I love you, my darling.” 

Soon after, the two fell asleep wrapped around each other. Several hours passed before Aziraphale was woken by a partially loud crack of thunder. He realized instantly that Crowley was not with him. Fearful, he shot up in the bed and called out his name quietly but with no response. His eyes adjusted to the dark and with some relief, realized the younger man’s clothes were still on the floor where they’d been carelessly dropped before. 

A minute passed and he did not return, nor did Aziraphale hear him moving around anywhere in his flat. Curious, he pulled himself from the warm covers and walked out into the common area. There he found Crowley, dressed in nothing but his briefs sitting on the couch. He was hunched over his phone, texting profusely. 

For a moment he just stood there to observe him. The redhead had one arm against the back of the couch, his other hand gripping the phone while his thumb typed away at a speed Aziraphale had not known was possible. He’d turned on the lamp on the small table next to him but otherwise left the flat completely dark. Aziraphale could see a cuppa sitting on the coffee table that had not been there before. He smiled at the thought, delighted in the idea that Crowley had felt at home there to do so. Finally, he moved forward.

“So you did have your cell phone,” He mocked fondly as he came around the corner. 

Crowley had heard him coming but still did not look up. “Got busted in the fight but seems to be working now.” He looked up then, fully intending to apologize to Aziraphale. He’d nearly cried at seeing the amount of missed calls the blond had left him. All thoughts of apologizing left his mind when he did finally bring his eyes up and saw that Aziraphale had not bothered to dress before coming out of the bedroom. “Aziraphale…” he groaned, grabbing the other man’s wrist and pulling him until he was seated in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. 

“Oh, hello, my dear,” Aziraphale grinned, and Crowley felt his cock twitch with interest against his stomach. 

“You  _ cannot _ come walking out here like this,” the redhead hissed, kissing his neck. He dropped his phone next to his side and brought both hands down to cup and spread the lush cheeks. “It makes me want to do  _ things _ to you.” 

Aziraphale hummed happily in his throat. “By all means, please do.” 

He groaned, feeling his own interest pressing against his briefs. “Did we unleash something in you?” 

“Must have,” Aziraphale whispered against his lips and kissed him again, hand pressing into the other man’s cock. 

Crowley wasted no time in slipping one finger into the puckered hole. Aziraphale was still open enough to accept the finger easily, though it stung a bit due to their earlier activities. He stoked inside the staggering heat, watching the blond’s face as he tried to push down on the probing digit. 

He took him a moment to add the second finger but once he did, he went to work stretching and scissoring the opening until Aziraphale was a moaning mess. He watched his face for any discomfort, not wanting to hurt him but finding it impossible to stop to grab the bottle of lubricant just in the other room. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

Grinning, he added a third finger. “Do you think I could make you cum just for this, angel?” 

The shorter man nodded his head. “Yes, yes, yes dear but…”

“But what?” He slowed down a moment, afraid he’d hurt him but picked it right back up when Aziraphale pressed down, whining. 

He didn’t answer with words. He reached between them and grabbed at the waistband of Crowley’s briefs, pulling them down and out of the way until they pressed under and kept in place by his balls. Crowley removed his fingers, astonished, as Aziraphale lined him up and sank slowly down onto his shaft until he was seated completely in his lap again. 

“Holy fuck.” Crowley gritted through his teeth, rolling his head back on the couch. He looked at Aziraphale under hooded lids. He admired all the soft curves, thick thighs, and solid weight against him. He looked up at the blond’s face and began to rub soothing circles into his hips as he had done before. “Is it too much?” 

Aziraphale had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and was worrying at the skin there. His eyes were closed shut but Crowley could not detect a single fleeting look of pain, only concentration. Aziraphale shook his head no, rocked his hips once, and then his mouth fell open into a silent moan. “Just getting used to it.” 

The redhead nodded, gripping his hips a little tighter than before and let Aziraphale set the pace. He rocked his hips slowly at first but quickly got the hang of the feeling. He lifted his hips and pushed down to meet Crowley’s well-timed thrusts, encouraged by the sounds the other man was making. 

“You feel so good, angel.” 

Aziraphale’s lips turned up into a small smile but almost immediately fell back into a look of concentration. His thighs were shaking now, from both the repeated movements but also the pure pleasure between them. Crowley didn’t think he had the stability to change their positions without pulling out and that was the last thing he wanted at the moment. He reached between them and grabbed Aziraphale’s prick and while he did want to see if the blond could cum without being touched, he stroked the shaft quickly while hissing into his ear. 

“So beautiful. So perfect for me. I want to be perfect for you, too, angel.” He kissed his neck, bit the love mark already there. “If you want, next time I’ll let you do this to me. Would you like that?”

Aziraphale nodded, frantic. He groaned low but loud in the otherwise silent room and came so hard Crowley would later find his mess had made it into his hair when he showered. With one more thrust, Crowley came as well. It came as a bit of a surprise and Crowley was unable to pull out before his orgasm overtook him. Unable to help himself, he held onto Aziraphale tightly and rode out each wave, filling the blond. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his now softening cock out. He winced at the spunk already leaking out of him. 

Aziraphale shook his head, panting. The condom before had been more about helping with the pain and clean up than anything else but now that he felt Crowley’s pleasure slowly draining from him, he didn’t want it any other way.“No, I like it.” 

Crowley petted the blond curls. He was about to say something when his phone vibrated next to his leg. They both looked more due to habit than anything else but Aziraphale quickly looked away and buried his face into Crowley’s neck. He didn’t want him to think he was snooping. 

“It’s just an old colleague of mine,” the redhead told him while still petting his hair. “Her name is Carmine. I was trying to see if anyone could tell me anything, but no one will betray Bee. The word is already out there that I’m out. No one will talk to me.” 

He tossed the phone back down and helped Aziraphale to his feet. This time, the blond forgo the wipes and went and took a shower instead while Crowley made more tea. 

“I don’t want to upset you,” he told him as soon as they were settled again on the sofa. It was only just past four but there wasn’t any way they could go back to sleep. “But I don’t want to keep anything from you anymore. I’m worried about Michael.” 

Aziraphale’s eyebrows knitted together. “Whatever for?” 

“They don’t trust her and now that I’m out, they’re gonna trust her even less. I was the one who vouched for her.” 

“Maybe I should call her…” 

Crowley grabbed his wrist to stop him from moving. “No. You cannot under any circumstance contact her. They know about you, about us. If they found out either of us spoke with her, we’re only gonna get her killed.” 

Aziraphale looked rightly concerned. He hesitated a moment but asked the question that was burning in his mind. “...How dangerous is Bee, really, my dear?” 

Crowley showed him his phone, which Bee had texted several hours before to so graciously let him know he was out.  **You’re dead.**

“Do you want to know why we call them Bee?” 

He nodded. 

“When we were all in foster care together, we all called them Beelzebub. Even the foster parents. They were relocated because they tried to set fire to one of the cats. When the parents asked why they said it because the cat was trying to eat a fly.” 

“So...very dangerous, then. I see.” 

Crowley felt ashamed and tried to lower himself into the sofa, hoped it would swallow him whole. Suddenly, just as before, he found himself explaining without any way to stop. “I got into a fight with my foster dad. He just kept touching one of the girls, no matter how many times she asked him to stop. It was little things, things he could do in public that most people wouldn’t even notice. Push her hair away, swat at her butt, hug her with his hands at her breasts. She got relocated and I was left to deal with the baggage, so I ran. I was on the street for a while, then the guys found me.” 

Aziraphale had not wanted to interrupt but did as soon as Crowley took a breath. “You do not need to explain anything to me, my love.” 

“I want to. So you understand.” 

“I already do.” He kissed his lips, softly, pulled back when he didn’t want to. “So, what do we do?” 

Crowley raised an eyebrow at the word ‘we’ but said nothing for now. “I need to get in contact with Michael without them knowing.” 

Aziraphale’s face lit up. “Mr. Cox!” At Crowley’s confused expression, he continued. “The man who lives upstairs. He’s close to death, the poor soul. Currently in the hospital, as it would be. I look in on him every so often.” 

“Your point?” 

“Mr. Cox has a landline in his flat, and I have a key.” 

Crowley had no better ideas. He kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head. “Lead the way, my angel.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too much? I am unsure. This chapter was supposed to have more in it but then I ended up adding more than I had planned and decided to leave the rest for the next chapter. Because of this, I'm still looking at 2-3 more chapters, one being an epilogue. 
> 
> I am also currently working on a one-shot for Nanny/Brother Francis that is about 7000 words done so far, so keep an eye out for that if you'd like. I'll still probably make a post on tumblr about which idea to do next for a chapter story but there's one I'm already leaning towards. I'm insisting with myself to finish this before even planning that one out on paper but I am very excited for it!
> 
> As always all mistakes are mine. I have not responded to your reviews from the last chapter and I apologize. If I have the time tonight, I will do so.


	13. Ducks Have Ears

_ Ten seconds… _

That was all Crowley could allow himself on the phone with Michael and that was only if she answered to begin with. If she didn’t he couldn’t risk leaving a message just in case her phone was searched. She had two phones at the moment. The first was her personal one that Aziraphale called to speak to her. The other she had gotten specifically for the job. As far as Crowley knew, she only had Bee, the guys, and himself in her contacts there. Everyone else had been made up to look real in case they looked through her phone. 

He couldn’t contact her on his number anymore and neither could Aziraphale. Michael rarely had her personal phone on her now, which was why it had been so hard for Aziraphale to contact her before. She would leave it at her flat and only check it when she could. Otherwise it was usually off and hidden away. Aziraphale’s number would be unknown to the second phone but now that he was known by the guys and surely by Bee, they couldn’t risk it. If they figured it out, it could not only put Aziraphale in danger but could expose Michael as his cousin and also a cop if they dug around enough. 

Crowley knew his window was closing. Bee wouldn’t demand to see Michael just yet, not until things had settled a bit and they could verify with other sources that they could really trust her. She hadn’t mentioned how she got involved before, just that her people had spread the word she was good enough to pull it off. Her lot probably had their own contacts around and he hoped they stuck by their word of her when confronted. Bee wouldn’t take her time, especially not with the job just two days away. 

_ Ten seconds… _

Reasonably, that was all they would have to speak. Just long enough to get whatever information they had exchanged but short enough for her to be addressing a wrong number if she was being watched. It was a trick Bee knew all too well, as they’d been the one to teach him it originally but it was all he could do at this point. 

Well, no. 

It was not all he could do. He could let it go. He could walk away and pretend it was all okay. He could wish Michael good luck and walk in the other direction but he knew that he’d never forgive himself if he did. Even if it all turned out okay and he’d done nothing, he’d be ashamed of himself for not trying. He supposed he could thank Aziraphale for that. 

He allowed Aziraphale to lead the way down the dimly lit hallways of the building. He watched for any movement in the shadows and suggested they used the stairs instead of the elevator so he could keep track of their surroundings. Ligur had certainly suspected but both he and Hastur had seemed a little surprised by their relationship in the end. He didn’t think they knew where Aziraphale lived but one could never be too careful. Something happening to Aziraphale was the very last thing he could handle at that moment. It was a shame, really. He wasn’t even able to enjoy the fact that Aziraphale was limping.

Mr. Cox had been dying for a while and Aziraphale had been given a key by his daughter who lived on the opposite side of town. The daughter still worked full time and was getting a bit on in years herself and therefore unable to help her father as much as he needed. Aziraphale had taken on the responsibility of checking in on him at least once a week but had not had to in recent months as he had been in and out of the hospital and home health and did not need him. 

His home was a mess of medical supplies, old newspapers, and random things a man in his 90s went through his life collecting, all stored in a very small flat. Crowley picked up the old rotatory phone but needed Aziraphale to dial it after two failed attempts.

The phone rang twice before the line picked up. Crowley listened intently to make sure it was truly Michael’s voice on the other end. “Hello?” 

“Are you alone?” 

She recognized his voice immediately. “Yes.” 

“We need to talk. Ducks! One hour.” He hung up without waiting for a response, the receiver seeming to loudly echo throughout the flat. 

Ten seconds. He hoped it was enough. He didn’t give her an exact location in case the others had been listening with her on speaker. If they were, she could say she had no idea what he was talking about and if convincing enough, might be able to get away with it.

“The park, my dear?” 

The redhead nodded, reaching over the inch needed to grab at his hand. “I told her about our date there on one of our drives. She’s smart so she'll figure it out.” 

Aziraphale smiled, squeezing his hand. “You should probably shower, Crowley.” He raised his free hand to run it through the taller man’s hair, which desperately needed a wash and some product at the moment. He leaned into the touch, unable to stop the small moan that drifted from his lips. “If we’re going to make it to the park on time.” 

“Aziraphale…” Crowley sighed, “you can’t come with me, ya know? It’s too dangerous and I. I need you to stay here and be safe for me.” 

The booklover smiled sadly, leading him out of the flat and back towards his own. “And I need to make sure you stay safe, dear. So, we’ll just have to make sure we both stay safe together.” 

Crowley groaned with no real annoyance behind it. While he was concerned, he didn’t think he could stop Aziraphale from coming along. After everything, he wasn’t strong enough to argue over it for fear they’d fight again. “I’m going to run downstairs and grab my bag.” 

“Your...bag?” 

Crowley rubbed the back of his head. “Ever since I got the Bentley working, I stashed most of my clothes in the trunk, ya know, for when we reached the time I couldn’t go back to the flat.” 

He had always planned for this to happen, just not as it had. Crowley hoped before he knew Michael was undercover that he could get out with Bee’s reluctant blessing. That he could give her a sufficient replacement and she’d let him go. He’d known, deep down, that she never would without a fight. Then he found out about the police sting and suddenly the game planned changed but the end goal was always the same. He’d known there would be a time where he’d get cut off, one way or another, so he tried his best to prepare for it. 

Aziraphale smiled, kissed his cheek. “Hurry back. I’ll get the shower ready.” 

It took Crowley more than a couple of minutes. He rushed as much as he could but he’d parked the car several blocks away in an ally to hide the unique model. Even if they’d managed to find it, they wouldn’t be able to tell exactly which building Aziraphale lived in. He walked in, black bag over his shoulder as nonchalantly as possible but could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

He had to leave a good portion of his stuff in his room so as not to draw suspicion if they searched it but he’d grabbed his favorite clothes and anything else he cared about. In the bathroom, he found two clean towels, a spot for his toothbrush, the water already running at the perfect temperature, and the old fashioned sunglasses Aziraphale had given him before to use. Much later, in the bedroom, he would find an empty drawer cleaned out to put his clothes away. 

Aziraphale hoped that was not too forward. 

…

Michael was dressed in short white running shorts, a navy blue tank top, and black running shoes when she came into the park almost an hour after the phone call. She had headphones in her ears but no music actually played from them so she could keep an eye and ear on her surroundings at all times. She’d left almost immediately after the phone call in order to take a long jog to the park. 

She rolled her eyes as she entered the front entrance, somehow still unbelieving Crowley had picked this particular location for their secret meeting. She remembered the details of his and her cousin’s date well. All he ever talked about was Aziraphale in between yelling at her driving when he trained her. It was almost like it calmed him. Perhaps it made him remember what he was doing it for. Looking back, she probably should have taken the toll on their relationship a little more seriously than she had. 

She stopped at the foot of a tree near the entrance, bringing the water bottle she brought with her to her lips and drank the whole thing.. She looked around the park slowly, noting the people who were there. It was still early but there were several other people there to get morning workouts in. There were currently four joggers, a mom pushing a stroller while talking on the phone, and three dog walkers. None of them looked familiar. 

She walked over to the ducks, leaning against the railing to look into the water. There were a few swimming about but most were out of sight at the moment. Crowley was late but she expected that. She knew as well as he did that if Bee and the others had been with her and heard the call, she’d have to go along with what he said if they figured out the meeting place. Crowley was smart enough to anticipate an ambush with her stuck in the middle with no way out. He was probably around, scouting the area and making sure she was truly alone. 

A moment later, someone came to stand next to her. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. “This is all killing me.” 

“Yes,” the man next to her said, nodding his head despite her being unable to see him. “Bee is...emotional torture in itself. Hastur is not much better and Ligur...I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble?” 

The comment that was made about her the day before came back to his mind. Knowing Ligur, he was trying anything he could to get Michael’s pants down for him and Crowley knew from observing the man that once he wanted someone, he rarely stopped pursuing them. He didn’t always take no well either. 

She shook her head no. Out of all of them, he’d probably been the easiest to get along with. “Actually, he’s been alright.” 

Crowley did not ask her what she meant. Instead, he surveyed the area and then let his eyes settle on Aziraphale, who was sitting on a bench not far from them, pretending to read the newspaper. “I’m sure you know I’m out.” 

Michael looked around as well, suddenly unable to keep still. She noticed Aziraphale immediately but didn’t say anything. “No one’s told me anything specific but I don’t need to ask what happened to your face. I’m supposed to be meeting with Bee later today. They want me to take them for a final test drive today to see if I’m ready.” 

“Michael,” he narrowed his eyes at her, “you can’t go. You have to tell your boss to pull you. You’re connection to this was me and I can’t help you if I’m out. They didn’t trust you before, what the fuck do you think they think now?” 

The brunette bit her lip. “I’m two days away from taking down one of the biggest crime bosses in Soho, Crowley. No way I’m asking to be pulled.” 

“Or,” he pointed out, gritting his teeth in anger, “you’re hours away from getting killed.” 

Michael shook her head, refusing to believe it was a possibility. “They might not trust me, but come on, what exactly do they have on you? That you were doing court ordered community service? That you got a job? A boyfriend?” She motioned to her cousin with one hand but brought it down quickly to hide the fact that it was shaking. “You’re out because Hastur was being a cunt about your new life and finally pushed Bee over with it, not because they caught you consorting with the enemy.” 

“But they did,” Crowley growled out. They didn’t have much more time. The longer they were there, the more likely they were to get caught. “Hookups aren’t shit but falling in love with someone outside of the Underground? You can’t get a new life without burning the old one, not with the one I had. If they don’t think I narced before, they will now just to be safe. Bee doesn’t fuck around.”

Michael sighed but ultimately shook her head. “I can take care of myself. Thanks for your concern.” She looked back at Aziraphale. He was too far away to hear them but close enough that she could see his soft smile when they locked eyes. “They know about him, specifically, I mean. Take care of him, okay?”

Crowley nodded, watched her go. “Michael, wait.” 

“Hm?” She turned. 

“You can’t wear a wire anymore. Bee will check. From here on out, you have to really play this in your favor. It’s the only way you can pull this off.” 

Michael wanted to act annoyed. She knew how to do her job and she knew how to do it well. She wasn’t put into this by accident; she was given a promotion and put on the case because of her abilities. She also knew he was only trying to look out for her. She nodded her head and tried to offer him a smile. 

“And hey, Bee uses a code word if they need to alert the others about something or give the word about an order without anyone else knowing.

“What is it?” 

“Flies.” 

…

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Crowley…”

“I’m all out of good ideas, angel, this is what I got left.” 

The blond hummed in response, looking around the corner briefly before ducking his head again. He bit his lip. “What if I can’t do it?” 

Crowley squeezed his hand. “You got this.” 

Aziraphale nodded, steeling himself against his nerves and making his way into the bullpen. Crowley had pointed out the two detectives that had questioned him when he had gotten arrested. They had started out with the case when they were assigned to him so Crowley figured they would be in charge of the sting and most likely the ones Michael was reporting to. Aziraphale realized that he knew them instantly. Michael had worked with them as a constable and he’d met them a couple of times throughout the years. 

The bullpen was not as crazy as the last time he was there so his presence was noticed almost instantly. The younger of the detectives saw him first, his face moving in such a way that told Aziraphale he recognized him but could not remember from where. Then his face lit up with recognition and he smiled, welcoming. He tapped his partner’s shoulder, then motioned to the blond. He stood from his spot and Aziraphale stopped walking, forcing him to come to him and away from his desk. The older detective waved to him but grabbed his coffee mug and went to the back room instead. 

“Michael isn’t here,” the detective - Mclean, he suddenly remembered - said as he came face to face with him. “She’s on an assignment.” 

“I know,” he told him, “and I really do not appreciate it one bit.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You have her out there alone with some of the most dangerous people in the city. Don’t think I don’t know. Crowley told me everything. He can’t help her anymore. They don’t trust him.” 

Mclean narrowed his eyes, “Michael had mentioned you guys were getting...close.” He pointingly did not look at the marks on Aziraphale’s neck, which only made it more obvious that he saw them. “Listen...I know you’re probably worried about her but she’s good at her job. She’s going to be fine.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale saw Crowley walk into the bullpen. He wrapped his arms around a green looking constable and lead him to the back of the room towards the detectives desks, asking him about one thing or another to distract him. No one else seemed to notice. Aziraphale shifted his feet and turned, forcing Mclean to turn away from the redhead - and his desk- to look Aziraphale in the eye. 

“Promise me you’ll back her up,” he said, grabbing onto his arm in what he hoped look like concern for Michael and not to keep him looking squarely at him. 

Mclean nodded, “Of course.” 

Crowley was now sitting at his desk, having gotten the rookie to leave him alone there. He was shuffling through the piles of paperwork, keeping one eye on the door across the room where the older detective had disappeared through. Aziraphale gripped Mclean’s arm tighter when he started to turn around. 

“Look, man, you’re a good cousin. I’m sure Michael appreciates your concern but I already spoke to her. She checked in earlier and she’s due to check in again in a couple of hours. I’d never let anything happen to her.” 

Crowley gave him a thumbs up and started off back towards the door. He rushed when Mclean’s partner came back through the door and by some miracle, walked out without being seen. 

“Thank you very much.” 

Mclean nodded, waving goodbye before walking back to his desk. Aziraphale did not wait to see if he noticed that his desk had been messed with. He walked quickly through the building until he was outside. He found Crowley around the corner, manila folder tucked under his arm. 

Crowley grinned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, we are really getting to the end here. I'm pretty certain there will only be one more chapter and then an epilogue but we'll see how it goes. Once again, I just want to thank everyone for reading, giving kudos, and submitting reviews. You guys are so amazing. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine.


	14. Run Away Together

It was important to move about their business as normal, otherwise, they could tip off whoever may be watching that something was wrong. It was Aziraphale who mentioned this and while Crowley knew he was right, it was hard for him to leave him to go about their normal routines. By Saturday morning, the redhead was all but jumping out of his skin. 

Crowley drove to the church much slower than normal in order to keep an eye out for anyone following them. There had been nothing since his fight with the guys but Bee’s threat was not to be taken lightly. Crowley spent most of the night keeping track of who came and in and out of the doors while Aziraphale ran the dinner like a general commanding an army. 

_ “They’re hitting a bank for a safe deposit box.”  _

_ “What’s in the box?”  _

_ “Information,” Crowley flipped through the notes, rolling his eyes at the terrible handwriting Mclean had. “Twelve years ago Lucian’s girlfriend was pregnant and ran away from him. She was supposed to testify against him but disappeared instead with their unborn kid. The box is supposed to have their location.”  _

_ “Oh, good Lord.”  _

_ “Don’t worry, angel, it’s a fake.”  _

Aziraphale left Agnes in charge of the dinner, citing that he was not feeling well when the time drew closer to leave. She was more than happy to and immediately asked Crowley to take him home. They left through the front door of the church and quickly rushed several streets down, checking into each side ally they passed. Finally, six blocks from the church, Crowley found what he needed. 

On principle, he generally did not steal other people’s cars but this situation called for it. His car was too noticeable and they couldn’t risk using any car that could be tied to them, which was a shame because Crowley had seriously considered taking Gabriel’s just to spite the man. Luckily for them, there was a decent model parked down one of the allies that was dark in color with tinted windows. Aziraphale kept watch while Crowley picked the lock and got the car started. 

_ “Kid was adopted out when he was born. Girlfriend died a couple years ago.”  _

_ “How sad.”  _

Crowley drove off quickly, getting as far away from the ally as he could. The bank was several miles from them and the job had already been set to start. Lucian had not wanted to wait until night but had not wanted too many people on the street. 

_ “The police have some areas blocked off for fake construction so Michael will be forced to drive the route they want. No one will be following her but there’s supposed to be officers set up at checkpoints to keep track of her.” He pointed to a spot on the map in front of him. “I’ll take this route. I should be able to keep up with her without being seen.”  _

_ “Where are they taking the box after?”  _

_ “Straight to Lucian. She’s supposed to drop the guys off a mile down and then she and Bee are supposed to go to Lucian. Michael could only give them the general area of where she would be taking Bee to meet with him, somewhere near James Park.”  _

When they pulled in the darkened alley just off from the back of the bank, Aziraphale let out a sigh. He could see Michael sitting in a van disguised as the bank’s cleaning crew. She looked like she was alone, which meant the others were probably already inside. They hadn’t heard from her since the meeting in the park so it was just a relief to see that she was safe, if only for the moment. 

“What do we do now?” 

“We wait. This isn’t a smash and grab job, it’ll be a bit.” 

Several beats passed in complete silence. Crowley alternated between watching the bank and checking his mirrors. He knew Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off of Michael. “Remind me later to say thank you. When it’s all done, I mean.” 

The redhead spared him a glance. “You shouldn’t thank me. I’m the one who got her here to begin with.” 

Aziraphale shook his head. “She got herself here, trust me, she would have found a way. Honestly, I’m quite surprised.”

“Why?” 

“I always thought Mclean liked Michael, romantically, I mean. Just the way he looked at her. Even believed they were seeing each other for a bit but then it just stopped. Figured she was working something with him instead.”

Crowley slowly turned his head to Aziraphale but the blond didn’t notice. He was still too busy keeping his eye on Michael. 

_ “It looks like Mclean was the detective that flipped the girlfriend, that’s why he and his partner got this case.”  _

…

Bee and the guys dressed in the dark blue uniform of the cleaning crew and slowly pushed the two large carts through the halls of the bank, heads down, until they made their way to the security area not fifty feet away from the main door. The keypad on the door beeped loudly to alert people around that the code had not been entered to disarm it. 

“Hey,” the security guard grunted, annoyed at having been interrupted from the movie playing on his tablet. He took his feet off his desk and stood to greet them. “You idiot people forgot to take care of the alarm again.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Ligur said, turning back around as if to go back but stopped when he heard the man gasp for breath. 

Wearing gloves, Bee took care of dismantling the camera and alarm system at the security desk while Hastur took care of the guard. He wrapped the older man’s neck in a sleeper hold, held him there until the struggling man lost consciousness and fell limp. Ligur helped bound and gag him before throwing him into one of the rooms used for clients to use their safe deposit boxes privately. The rooms did not lock so Ligur used a chair to stop the door from being opened from the inside. 

The three made their way behind the counter, pushing the carts in front of them. Hastur started to take out the cleaning supplies in the cart and left a trail of bottles behind them to get what he wanted underneath. Bee rolled their eyes but said nothing about it. When they finally reached the safe, Hastur helped Ligur pull the portable core drill out from its hiding spot. The machine was dark red and spanned over his entire arm span. 

The safe itself was large, as bank safes were nowadays. The circular door was cold, even underneath Bee’s leather glove. They spun the dial for no reason other than they could. There were a couple of different resistance measures associated with the design but the dial was controlled by human hands and humans made errors. They could play with it all night and never trigger anything but there were too many combinations possible for them to even think of it as an option. 

The code itself was anywhere between six and twelve digits long with three numbers grouped into two sets. The tellers at the bank would know the first set and the managers were privy to the second. This stopped a single employee from being able to open up the safe alone, as each and every person only knew half the code. It also required a manager and a teller to open and close the bank together every day. 

They didn’t know a single digit of the combination but that didn’t matter. Hastur preferred to blow the door but Lucian didn’t want to draw that much attention. Ligur had done some construction work when he lived a more honest lifestyle and was more than comfortable handling the tools needed to cut through steel. Also working in their favor, the safe in Chesterton Front was a bit older by vault standards but it has been upgraded in the last ten years. The bank itself was rather unassuming and since it was on main, the idea of someone robbing it was almost laughable. That might have been why it was chosen. 

“Alright, Ligur, let’s see how good you are at this.” Bee looked around the room again to double-check everything was going according to plan. This was not a plan they could afford to mess up. They didn't even think they would survive Lucian’s wrath. 

The dark-skinned man smirked at them, putting the safety goggles squarely on his face. “You didn’t bring me along for my charming personality.” 

Bee rolled their eyes. “Stop quoting movies, how long is this going to take?” 

Ligur grunted, shrugged his shoulders but answered. “Bout an hour once I start.” 

“Christ,” Hastur groaned, walking past the two of them and back towards the security desk. 

“You better check and make sure the bitch is okay.” 

Ligur narrowed his eyes but grabbed the radio on his waist without another word. “Hey baby, how’s it going?” 

It only took a second for Michael to answer. _ “All good.”  _

“I’m about to start drilling. Gonna take about an hour, let us know if you see anything.” 

_ “Will do.”  _

“Maybe after I can take you out, darling.” He didn’t wait for a response, mostly because Bee’s visible annoyance but also because he needed to get started or else they would never finish in time. The bank was not set to open until Monday but the guard’s shift would be over in just over an hour. They needed to be out before his replacement came. 

He set the radio back on his hip and set the drill exactly where he needed it. Hastur came back and settled on the floor by Bee’s feet, the guard's tablet in his hands. The start of the drill against the steel door drowned out the beginning of the movie but Bee peaked over to look. 

“Really?” 

Hastur shrugged. “It’s a good movie. He made me want to watch it.” 

Bee rolled their eyes again. “You’re useless. Stay here while I check on the guard.” 

They walked off before Hastur could let them know he’d already done so when he grabbed the tablet. The old guy had hurt his shoulder trying to break the door down but the wood was sturdy to appease clients who wanted to look at their belongings in what they believed was true security. 

He watched Ligur for no more than five seconds from where he sat, which was far enough away that he did not need safety goggles but not far enough where he could hear the movie well. He read the subtitles instead. After several minutes, Hastur became worried about Bee but the shorter robber came back into his view, shoving their cell phone in their back pocket as they did. They didn’t say anything and he didn’t ask, too tired of having been yelled at and threatened whenever he showed them some concern. 

About an hour later, as Thornburg was threatening to steal a truck and telling Harvey to shove it on the tablet, the noises from the drill died down and eventually stopped. He looked up to see Ligur setting the tool back in the cart and the hole in the safe behind him. “Christ,” he groaned again, “all that work for that little hole?” 

“You didn’t do shit,” Ligur spat back. “Besides, it’s all I need.” 

A second later the vault door was open. Hastur picked the lock on the gate and shoved the metal doors open and out of the way. He lifted his hand to let the others know it wasn’t safe yet, checking for any other resistant measures. Finding none, he took a step through the gate and moved towards the safe deposit boxes. “Which one is it?” 

Bee handed each of them a manual hand drill. “Ligur, start over there. Hastur, on this side. I’ll start here and get the one we need.” 

“Why do we have to open up all these boxes if you know which one it is?” 

“Don’t want the police knowing exactly which box we were after, know do we?” They snapped, “What you find in your boxes is all you’re getting paid for this job so open as many as you can. You got twenty minutes.” 

The three went to work in their respective areas. Bee quickly got into the box they needed and took the envelope out. They checked the contents with little interest and then pulled out their phone to text someone. Hastur side-eyed them but said nothing again. He continued to open up the boxes but ten in and all he found were people’s personal important documents, some old family photos, and some small pieces of old jewelry. 

“I thought people hide money in these,” he grumbled as he started to work on another. 

“That’s illegal,” Bee spat back. “Can’t take money out of the economic circulation.” 

“Well this persons been naughty,” he replied pulling out a wad of cash from the box he just opened. He smelled it. It didn’t smell like drug money so he shoved it in his bag and moved on. “What are in those?”He pointed to a line of smaller safes on the wall. 

“Where they keep the teller drawers,” Ligur responded. He checked the lock on them and then used the drill to get through, though with some difficulty. The drawer had about nine thousand in it so he opened up another one and emptied it out as well. 

Bee’s phone beeped to let them know the twenty minutes was up. She grabbed Ligur’s radio. “All clear?” 

The reply came immediately.  _ “All clear.”  _

They left the vault as it was, cleaned up everything they brought with them and shoved the bags full of stuff they took in the cart before heading out the way they came. They kept their heads down in case anyone was observing them and quickly got into the van. 

Michael was wearing the dark blue uniform as well and had kept low to make sure no one questioned why she was sitting there alone. As soon as Bee gave the signal, she was off. They had no police following them but Michael still had to use the skills Crowley taught her to get the van away from the bank as quickly as possible. The outside camera had caught the plate coming in and in mere minutes the replacement guard would be coming for his shift. 

Hastur and Ligur stripped out of the cleaners uniforms as Michael drove, sliding onto the street she was supposed to drop them off at. They were to take the rest of the goods and head to an undisclosed location she had not been given to go through the loot while she drove Bee to wherever Lucian was. As she was slowing down at the stop, Bee placed their hand on her shoulder, the hand feeling much heavier than it should. 

“Don’t stop. Go up the street and make a right, take that ally and then head back to their flat.”

Michael did not question them. A quick glance in the rearview mirror told her the guys were just as confused as she was. 

“Did you spot someone,” Hastur questioned, now concerned. 

“No,” Bee hissed, “but we just lost Crowley. I do not need you guys dropping like flies around me. Got it?” 

The dynamic in the van shifted then. Michael was certain she could feel it even if she hadn’t have known. “Yeah,” Hastur said, “I understand.” 

Ligur looked at her, questioning, but Michael ignored him. Her mind spiraled with possible scenarios and escape plans. All too soon they were parked just three blocks away from the flat. Bee motioned for her to take her uniform off and get out and having no other option, she obeyed. 

“Take the stuff, leave the uniforms and tools. Michael, leave the keys.” 

Silently the four made their way to the flat among the people still on the street. No one paid them any mind at all as the late Londoners went about their business. Before they even turned the corner, a man wearing a matching uniform walked out from behind an ally and drove the van away. Michael pretended not to notice. 

_ “This was planned.”  _ She thought, a little panicked. She forced her feelings down. “I thought we were meeting with Lucian.” 

“We are,” Bee replied, voice even. “He’s waiting for us in the flat.” 

She could not see the guy’s faces as they were walking behind them but was certain they were as unprepared for that as she was. She wondered if Lucian would have her searched or if all of this was to get the documents faster. She kept quiet the rest of the way, moving smoothly between Bee and the guys as if she belonged. 

Lucian was standing in the middle of the common area when they entered. She had only seen him before in photos police had taken but they did not do him justice. He was just over six feet tall and looked younger than his forty-nine years of age with high cheekbones and dirty blond hair. He didn’t look like a criminal who ran a large portion of the Underground. He just looked like a man. 

“You got it,” He asked them as soon as the door closed behind them. Michael was forced to walk forward but tried to keep her distance. His voice was velvet on his tongue but held a dangerous note in it that Michael had to suppress a shudder at. Without a word, Bee handed over the envelope. She watched, panic rising in her chest as he set the papers down without looking at them. He turned to her and grinned. “Michael…” 

…

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…” Crowley mumbled under his breath as he pulled the car up in the back alley of the building. Aziraphale looked as confused as ever and peered up at him for guidance and help in a situation he had no business being in. “It went bad. I gotta get in there.” He threw his seatbelt off and opened the door without a second thought, stopping only when Aziraphale reached out and grabbed him. 

Panic had bubbled in the blond so quickly that he had been unable to stop himself. He clung to Crowley’s arm tightly as the younger man hung halfway out of the car, looking at him. The words ‘don’t go’ were right at the tip of his tongue but he knew they would be a waste of breath so he didn’t say them. Crowley would go in whether he liked to or not because he loved him. He was putting his life in danger to save Michael for him and nothing he said or did would stop him. Instead, he pulled Crowley’s face to his, kissed him deeply, and whispered, “Come back to me.” 

The redhead nodded and stepped out of the car. He paused, his head clear for a moment. “You need to get out of here.” 

“I’m not leaving you -,” 

“Yes,” Crowley urged, “you are. Listen, this wasn’t part of the plan. Lucian has never been here before, trust me, Aziraphale. This is not where Bee and Michael were supposed to meet him. They didn’t hit any of the checkpoints on the way here. The police have no idea where Michael is right now.” 

Aziraphale visibly gulped, his mouth suddenly dry. Crowley was right. They had veered off course after the street Michael was supposed to stop for the others to get out. They were probably well off course before anyone realized what had happened. He unhooked his seatbelt and slid clumsily into the driver's seat. 

“See if you can’t get ahold of Mclean, call 999 if you have to. Drive the original route and see if you can spot any of the checkpoints. They might still have a few about.” He leaned down and kissed him again. “See you later, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Crowley watched Aziraphale drive off before making his way around the building and up the stairs. He couldn’t just walk into the flat. Even if Michael was in good enough shape, it would still be four against two and that was if Lucian had come alone. He stopped just outside the flat’s door and could their muffled voices from the common room. 

He checked the door next to them and found it unlocked, as it normally was. He peered inside and saw no one so he made a beeline to the small room in the back that matched his old one. He opened up the window and looked down. It wouldn’t be that far of a fall if he fell and it was far better than just walking in the front door. His long arms just barely reached the other window, so he slid it open before pulling himself out on the sill and slipped into his old room. 

He tripped over something on the floor and smacked his knee into the nightstand, just barely able to stop the yelp that crawled up his throat. Looking around the dim room, he saw that it had been destroyed. He cursed as he hurried to hide behind the door. A second later it opened and Hastur walked in, looking confused. The door started to close on its own. Gathering all the courage he could muster, he struck Hastur from behind just as the man was about to turn around. 

The older man fell with a thud, seemingly out cold. The others did not come to him but Bee called out his name. Crowley grabbed the gun Hastur had tucked in his waistband and placed it in his own. He came around the corner cautiously, hands raised as he entered the common room. He closed the door behind him. Hastur probably wouldn’t be out long and he didn’t need the man sneaking up behind him without him hearing. 

“Crowley!” Bee’s voice dripped with anger but they did not move towards him. 

“Oh, the infamous Crowley,” Lucian said with glee. “Well isn’t this delicious.” 

“Can someone please tell me what the  _ fuck  _ is going on?” Ligur stepped closer to Michael. 

Lucian chuckled. “With pleasure.” The older man took the envelope off the side table and ripped it in half. “The police have set us all up. You can ask Michael all about it.” 

Crowley gritted his teeth. He had hoped his earlier thought had been wrong but he was quickly beginning to realize that this had nothing to do with the envelope and everything to do with Michael. The woman in question took a step back towards Crowley but there was nowhere to go. They were unarmed, besides the pistol stored behind the redheads back. There was no way he could take out all three before they shot back and Bee would shoot to kill. 

“I knew that bitch of an ex of mine was dead and I don’t care two shits about some fucking kid. I planned to just kill whoever they sent but then I found out it was you, Michael.” He grinned at her as if they were old friends. “Funny name for a girl, ya know? Hard to forget.” 

Michael searched her brain but could not come up with a time that she had met him before. 

“As I recall, Mclean had a nice little thing for you last time I checked. I was waiting for the right moment to repay the favor he did me. Imagine my surprise when he dropped you right in my lap.” 

Suddenly Michael remembered his face. There had been a time at the beginning of her career that she and Mclean had been a bit of an item but she broke things off before it got too serious in fear of her own job. Around that same time, Mclean had broken Lucian’s girlfriend and been promoted and moved away for his own stint in undercover work before being transferred to Manchester. 

He’d only been back to them for the last couple of years and about a year ago, their relationship started up again for a short time. They had gone on a couple of dates in public, but usually over in Mayfair or Fitzrovia to avoid being seen. There was a lovely tavern on Berner’s street that he had taken her to late one night after work. The couch had clashed horribly with the pillows but the food had been good. They’d left early because a man there had been staring at her and made her feel very uncomfortable. She realized then it had been Lucian. 

“Why didn’t you just kill me before?” They had plenty of opportunities and if he planned to do it all along, why bother waiting? 

“I’m a patient man,” he told her, bringing a knife out of his pocket and twiddling it between his thumbs. “First I didn’t know who did it, then I didn’t know where the fuck he was and then it was just sorta fun...ya know? To be around. To watch.” 

“The police are on their way,” Crowley cut into the older man’s creepy monologue, barely holding back a shudder. “You should all just leave before they get here.” 

Michael takes another step back but Bee began to follow her steps. Her and Mclean’s relationship was long over and both had moved on. Killing her would hurt him no more than it would hurt any of their other coworkers but Michael seriously doubted voicing this would change anything. 

“You’re not wearing your wire, you missed all the checkpoints, and the tracker in the van is on fire with the rest of it. No one knows where you guys are.” He sighed heavily, taking his gun out from behind his back. “Alright, enough small talk. Let’s have some fun.” 

“Wait,” Ligur took a step towards Michael, “you can’t just…” 

He was cut off by Bee lifting their arm up to silence him. Angered, the dark-skinned man grabbed their bare wrist and shoved them away. Instead of growing furious, Bee shrank away with a hiss mixed with a sob. They hated when people touched their skin. Crowley had never seen anyone do it before, no one had ever touched her clothing even, too fearful to get too close. 

“That’s right,” Michael laughed, “shy away like a coward, Bee. You hate that, don’t you?” 

“What the hell are you doing,” Crowley mumbled to her but no one paid him any mind. 

“So touch starved because no mommy or daddy ever loved you, never wanted to hug you that you can’t stand the slightest touch now, can you?” 

Bee straightened where they were. Their head was bowed and they remained frightfully still. Crowley had no idea what Michael was doing but whatever it was, he hoped it worked. 

“Come on, Bee, tell us, are you a  _ virgin _ ?” 

Bee snapped. One second their hands were empty and the next the knife they always kept in their back pocket was open in their hand. A deep and violent scream radiated from their throat as Bee launched forward for Michael without a second of hesitation. 

The metal blade met flesh with a loud shrill. Bee pulled the knife back, shocked, and stepped back as Ligur fell to the ground between them, holding his side. 

“Ligur!” Michael tried to kneel to him but Lucian grabbed her, placed the barrel of his gun against her temple. “Stop! He needs help!” 

Crowley shrugged off his jacket quickly. Falling to his knees, he pressed the black fabric into the wound as hard as he could. He looked up at Bee, who was staring at Ligur with an unreadable expression on their face. 

“That’s enough,” Lucian roared. “Get to you feet Crowley or I’ll blow her brains out right now!” 

The redhead quickly stood, raising his hands on instinct. He took a step forward when motioned to. He could hear Ligur whimpering on the floor, his blood soaking through the jacket and onto the ugly carpet beneath their feet. “He needs a hospital.” 

“Need a morgue in a minute,” Lucian remarked casually. Michael struggled against him despite the gun to her head. He pressed the cold metal into her skin harder. “Both of you are coming with me. Bee, deal with this. It’s your mess.” 

“Yes,” they replied, voice distant and colder than Crowley had ever heard. 

“Michael,” Crowley called to her. She was crying now, shivering even under Lucian’s tight grip. “It’s going to be okay.” He itched to reach for the gun but he was too close to Lucian to use it and Michael was in the way. “Remember the ducks?” 

Michael looked bemused for several seconds. Then the look on her face transformed to one of consideration and mild understanding. Crowley figured it was the best he was going to get and made a move for the gun. At the same time, Michael drove her elbow into Lucian’s solar plex as hard as she could manage and then brought her foot down on top of his when he did not immediately let her go. 

Pained, he groaned, though no sound came out. His grip loosened considerably and Michael managed to fight her way out and quickly ducked out of the way just as Crowley brought the gun down to smack Lucian in the head. The metal against his skull made a terrible cracking sound, one she thought she would remember for the rest of her life. Lucian stumbled for just a second before falling, blood pouring from his head. 

Bee turned around but from her position on the floor, Michael tackled her legs and together they fell onto the carpet with a loud thump. Seconds later, the door all but shattered as the police knocked it down and flooded into the room. 

Crowley raised his arms automatically and seconds later a large police officer was behind him, handcuffs locked around his wrists. 

“No, not him,” Michael insisted, even as she wiped tears from her eyes, “he’s with me.” 

A second later the handcuffs were gone and so was the man. Crowley was left standing in a sea of law enforcement and medical staff as they examined and pulled the three people he used to call his family up and out of the room along with one of the most dangerous men in Soho. He stood for a long moment, looking at his blood-soaked hands and then at Ligur who was being wheeled out the door on a stretcher. 

A hand touched his shoulder. He looked and found Mclean’s older partner there. Behind him, he saw Michael talking with Mclean, the other man looking more distrust than she was in that moment. 

“You are the stupidest man I have ever met,” the detective insisted, “but maybe also the bravest.” 

Crowley grinned, “Aren’t they the same thing?” 

The other man shook his head, patted his shoulder. “He’s waiting for you, downstairs. Stop by the ambulance to get the blood off and don’t leave til we get your statement, okay?” 

“Yes, sir, thank you.” 

Crowley ran for the door but was stopped by Michael’s voice. When he turned to her, she looked almost like her normal self, hands on her hips and lips turned down in a frown. “I’ve gotta bone to pick with you, Crowley! Remember the ducks?” 

“What about it?” 

“What kinda stupid hint is that? How did you know I would think to  _ duck.  _ My first thought was grapes!” 

Crowley shrugged. “Figured it out, didn’t you?” 

He didn’t wait for a reply. He ran down the stairs, past policeman and old neighbors and out the door. He walked straight to the ambulance for his hands, keeping an eye out for the blond. He didn’t see him but did see Bee sitting in the back of the police car, screaming and throwing her arms around in the small space. 

He looked around again but still didn’t see his boyfriend. “Aziraphale! Where in Heaven are you?!” 

“Behind you, dear boy.” 

The redhead turned and was immediately swept up in a hug. He hurried his head deep in the side of Aziraphale’s neck and just breathed in the scent of him. 

“It’s done, Aziraphale.” He held the blond tighter, his mind racing with all the ways it could have gone wrong and how desperately he wanted to take him away from everything. “Let’s go off together! You and me, take a holiday.” 

Aziraphale brought his face to him so he could kiss him. “Anything you want, my darling.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled so hard with this chapter, which is why it took so long for me to update. I hope it was up to par. There's only one chapter left, the epilogue to wrap all this up. Honestly, I just can't believe it. Thank you guys so much for staying with me through this. 
> 
> I'm about 12.000 words deep into my Nanny/Francis one-shot and I hope to finish and post that before getting into my new multichapter story. I have a couple of ideas and I will be posting something on tumblr to help decide which one to write first.


	15. Epilogue

_ Two years later… _

The church basement was decorated in fuchsia and teal. The tables were covered in the light blue tablecloths with beautiful pink rose bouquets that Crowley had designed himself for the occasion. The stage was decorated in fairy lights with just enough room for the hired band to play. Aziraphale had taken special care to make the large arch at the door, decorated tastefully in flowers and ribbon of the chosen colors. 

It was a bit strange to have a wedding on a Sunday but the venue had a standing Saturday night dinner that no one dared to mess with. The late hour at the end of the week did not much matter, not when most of the attendees - including the bride and groom - were retired. 

The ceremony and reception were smaller than average, just the couples dearest friends and family, which left plenty of room for dancing. A photographer stood off to the side, snapping pictures at every opportunity while Crowley glowered over him every so often to ensure he did a good job. It was his business partner’s wedding, after all, and he needed it to be perfect. 

He had wanted to do it himself but then there would be no pictures of him walking the bride down the aisle, and that simply would not do. 

“Only took three years but they’ve finally walked down the aisle,” Anathema said to him as she walked up behind him. He nodded his head but was switching back and forth between watching the happy couple dance and making sure the photographer caught it correctly. “He’s doing a good job, come on, dance with me.” 

“Where’s Aziraphale?” It wasn’t as if he was ignoring her, not really. He would dance with her and probably Newt as well at some point for the hell of it but just mentioning dancing to him made him want to find the blond. They had yet to see each other since the reception started. 

“Over there,” Anathema pointed. He was directing the caterers - and Gabriel, who had somehow gotten stuck helping - on where to set up the food so the guests could eat in a few moments. “If he hadn’t just bought the bookshop from Mr. Terry I would think he should be a wedding coordinator.” 

Crowley laughed, “Don’t encourage him. He was so stressed out this last year. He absolutely needed everything to be perfect.” 

Anathema raised her hands in defense and grinned. Something caught her eye over his shoulder but he didn’t look. “Oh, Newton is calling for me. I’ll be back for that dance!” 

The redhead nodded his head happily as he watched her bound off to her boyfriend. He twirled her around in his arms, the beautiful emerald dress she wore wrapping around her legs. He watched them for another moment before walking over to Aziraphale, who was rolling his eyes at the workers in white before him. 

“I knew we should have catered it ourselves but no, I wanted it to be special. Lesson learned, my dear.” 

Crowley hugged him from behind and purred in his ear. Despite just telling Anathema not to encourage him, he found it was the only thing he could do now. “You did a wonderful job at all this, Aziraphale, truly beautiful.” 

“You did just as much as me,” he insisted, “ you did! Honestly I was not sure about those colors but you made it work.” 

Crowley shrugged, “It’s a gift.” 

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. “I’m afraid a couple of the caterers messed up, nothing too big but it’ll be a moment before we eat. I have to let Madame Tracy know and adjust the schedule so we can move some things up.” 

“Oh,” the florist suddenly looked flushed. He nodded when Aziraphale asked if he was okay and all but shooed him away when he tried to linger. “No, no, go tell her what’s going on. I’ll, uh, stay here and make sure they don’t screw up again.” 

The book lover smiled. “No need. I’ve put Gabriel on it. He’s having a blast glaring at them back there.” 

Crowley forced out a chuckle. As soon as Aziraphale turned around, he grabbed at his suit’s breast pocket. Finding what he was looking for, he sighed in relief. Turning to look around the room, he found Gabriel half leaning out of the kitchen doorway, probably to keep a glaring eye on the caterers but to stay out of their way. Their eyes met briefly and Crowley gave a simple nod. Gabriel rolled his eyes but unfolded his arms to give Crowley a thumbs up. He’d gotten so much better over the last year but homophobic or not, the man was still an arse. 

“Alright!” The music suddenly stopped and Anathema’s booming voice fell over the room from the loud speakers. “The bride wishes to throw her bouquet to all the unwed people in the room so come on. You too Aziraphale!”

The blond jumped at being called out trying to slip away to check on the food. When he backed up to the door leading back into the kitchen, Gabriel grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back towards the center of the room where everyone was gathered. He looked back at his brother, almost offended, but the older man just smirked. 

Crowley waited for Aziraphale to look for him before joining them and stayed a few paces back and out of the way. He met Madame Tracy’s eyes, who smiled at him before turning around to face her husband. 

“One!” 

“Two!” With each number, she brought the flowers back over her head, as if she was winding up the throw. 

“Three!” 

Instead of throwing the flowers, she turned back to the crowd. The loved ones before them who had just been cheering and shoving each other before parted like the red sea in order to allow the bride to walk through them. Madame Tracy handed Aziraphale the flowers before hugging him tightly. He took them gingerly in his hands, feeling more confused with each passing second until he looked at the bouquet. He had seen it earlier and it had been as pink as the ones on the tables Crowley had decorated. Now, nestled in the middle, was a single large sunflower. 

A bit startled, he turned to find Crowley on one knee, ring box open in his hand and the deepest flush the book lover had ever seen on his face. The crowd, which had stayed silent for the moment, suddenly erupted into cheers and encouragement. Crowley waited until they died down a bit before opening his mouth to speak but before a single word left his mouth, Aziraphale had dropped to his knees and pulled him into a deep kiss. 

The others once again cheered but Crowley still managed to catch the  _ “yes, love,” _ Aziraphale whispered in his ear. He slipped the ring on his finger and helped the blond stand. 

“How long have you been planning this?” 

Crowley smiled, “Since the beginning.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so, this is it. I apologize that it took so long to post this. Life, ya know? 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this ending. I cannot believe it is finished. I want to thank you all one more time for being so amazing. So many of you have followed me all the way through this story and you have all been so kind with all the kudos and comments this story has received. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart. 
> 
> I am currently 14,000 words into my Nanny/Francis oneshot and hope to post that in a week or two, so if you're interested, keep an eye out. After that, I'll start to think about what chapter story to start working on. 
> 
> Lots of Love.


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